Rapier
by kamelion
Summary: Captain Rapier is out for one last adventure. Hornblower and Kennedy find themselves caught in a increasingly dangerous situation with no easy answers. I do not own the HH characters. All mistakes are my own.
1. Chapter 1

The wind was brisk and awash with familiar smells of sweat and sea. The _Indie_ sliced through smaller waves and bounced over larger ones, driving onwards towards the coast of Africa. Dolphins played in her wake, streamlined figures darting like fat arrows underneath the thick ripples. The ship itself creaked and popped, but never enough to stir worry amongst the crew, only enough to inform King Triton of her massive presence as she claimed her right to the open seas. For now, at least, Triton was tolerant, even lenient, allowing safe passage as he had done for the past five days. The intense storms saddled by them, providing electrical shows of biblical proportions yet not landing so much as a drop on the _Indie's _matted deck. The ship pressed on determinedly, flanked by the dolphins and, according to the stories told to the young deck boys below, beautiful mermaids whose songs would lure sailors to the seas, and down to their deaths. These stories were passed on with amusement, for it pleased the old hands to see young eyes widen as the cast a wary look over the side. With stories below and light chatter atop, the crew set about their daily chores with an ease that hadn't been granted them for quite some time.

Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower stood at the rail, with one hand clenched tightly in the rigging, should the ship's movements suddenly change. He was peering intently down at the dolphins, mere shadows set in turquoise. His dark, unruly curls danced and flapped into his eyes. His cheeks reddened with the setting sun, and he winced into the light spray as it hung in the air before wisping away. He was leaning further and further over the rail when a firm grip on his ankles caused him to cry out, grab the rail for dear life and try to force his torso around. The ship gave a playful tilt in appreciation, then settled. Hornblower felt the grip release and heard a sparkle of laughter. His startled gaze met amused eyes, blue as the waters below. "Damn it all, Archie!"

Archie Kennedy chuckled, leaning his elbow comfortably against the rail. "Getting a bit lax then, Horatio? I'd have thought someone of your instinct and skill would take note of possible danger without so much as flinching!" His light voice carried to two sailors nearby who had observed the ruse. They hid their grins.

Horatio accepted the humor with candor. "Danger, yes. Not you, my friend."

"Then it is just as well I'm not the enemy," Archie replied cheekily, and turned to the view with a blissful sigh. "It is wonderful weather, is it not? See those clouds? They'll join the sun just there," he pointed to a spot on the horizon, "it should make for a spectacular sunset."

"You'll sketch it of course. You've your pencils below."

"It would be a grey sight indeed."

"What? Ah, of course. We must find some colored ones, if and when we reach land."

Archie grinned. "Besides, you take me for a quick study. That sun would have to still in it's tracks and roast the earth before I sketch it."

"Now I'll have none of that. You've improved greatly, especially in past weeks. Do not take it so lightly."

"I dare not. For all I know, my life as a seafaring man would be best served as a man viewing the seas fairly. Still, it is a new skill, and new skills must be honed. I'm finding I have neither the time nor patience."

"Still, you should try and find the time for it." Horatio leaned back against the rail, studying his friend. "As usual, you underestimate yourself."

And as Horatio expected, the faint blush rose and colored Archie's cheeks as pink as the setting sun. "Folly," he muttered, pegging Horatio with an annoyed glance. "And there really is no time for it. That is what I came to tell you, we rendezvous with the _Clementine_ tonight. The Captain's invited us for drinks. The whole crew, in fact. Ship's captain's called Rapier."

"Like his wit," Horatio said, automatically, with a straight face. He allowed his expression to fall. "Archie, please tell me he's not the same."

"Indeed! He is the very man we rescued from the sword and gallows five months since. And he hasn't changed, Horatio, from what I can gather. And unfortunately, neither has his tongue."

"But his debt was repaid!"

"Aye, several times over! Yet he remains grateful." Archie's eyes sparkled with humor.

Horatio sighed. "I don't suppose I could suddenly take ill," he paused at Archie's quiet chuckle in response to the desperation in his friend's voice, "or maybe fall into the sea?"

"I gave you the opportunity, and you failed miserably. Flailed like a fish on a hook."

"Archie, with this man I am a fish on a hook!"

There was no mistaking the apprehension in his friend's voice. For someone who tried to hard to keep his emotions in check, his face betrayed him every time. "Come now, Horatio. . ."

"I mean it! The man will not leave me alone! It is nothing but, 'My lieutenant' this and 'you're so young' that. . ." Horatio's eyes rolled, ". . .'when will ye get ye a lass then?'"

Archie laughed out loud at Hornblower's imitation, complete with scrunched nose and pointed finger. "Take pity if need be, but tolerate him all the same. He's taken a liking to you, Horatio, and he has pull. You would do well to keep that in mind."

"I'd rather leave my future to the devices of my own merits, thank you, and not pull." Horatio winced. "God, I just remember his foul breath after drink, and that was only slightly better than his humor."

Archie clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Well then, Lieutenant Hornblower, we shall endeavor to out-drink him, lest we suffer. Eh?"

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The _Clementine_ was a smaller ship that held itself proudly, a flower amongst the mighty timbered trees of the tall ships. Still, she seemed too delicate for the expansive ego of her Captain, whose presence eclipsed the good souls of all men aboard. He would be a rat if not so entertaining, a scoundrel if not so generous. It was rumored that Captain Jonathan Rapier was once called the Serpent of the Seas, and abandoned the life of a pirate to serve his country when duty called. "I stole from the Spanish," he once insisted, "I can now do the same without fear of retaliation from my own men." This odd statement was never detailed, and the unlikely story was fueled by the fact that the man had seemingly come from nowhere, and never discussed his private past.

Horatio knew of his exploits. Everyone to the South Seas knew of Rapier's travels, which he embellished with the help of attentive ears and drowning spirits. He claimed that his nickname of 'Serpent of the Seas' was not due to piracy, but because he actually battled one. Nearly the ship's full length. Tried to pull the _Clementine_ into the murky depths below before being harpooned and the anchor dropped on its head. Rapier's crew didn't dare deny it.

It was this same story that was being retold for Horatio's benefit. His eyes blurred with drink, the young Lieutenant merely smiled and nodded and showed his astonishment in all the appropriate places during the interminable speech. Dinner was long since over, with the _Indie's_ crew resuming their duties aboard their own ship. The officers stayed with Captain Rapier, and by this late hour even Captain Pellew was looking rather long-faced and sluggish. His dark eyebrows jerked upwards in a semblance of alertness, forcing his eyes open. Archie had given up the battle and sat half asleep, his disheveled hair pulling from the black ribbon as though wanting to escape the verbal onslaught itself. He and Horatio had actively kept the bargain of accepting any and all offers of drink by way of getting through the evening.

"It's too bad we lost the damn thing," Jonathan Rapier growled thickly, "but the sea swallowed her right up. We've got the toothmark down the belly to show for it!"

"Are you certain it is not from a reef?" Pellew asked, his eyes still wide and fighting their own battle.

"Upon my word it is not. A sea serpent's poisoned tooth made that mark. Lost my best anchor," he clenched a fist in the air, "bit the chain right in half."

"Indeed!" Pellew cast an artificially impressed look at Hornblower, who stifled his smile. "Such exploits, and yet when it comes to requiring saving from the gallows, it was up to the thinking of this young man here," Pellew nodded at Hornblower, "and not your own considerable skill?"

"Aye," Rapier jabbed an important finger towards Hornblower, "and that young man is a whelp destined for great days. Reminds me of myself when I was a lad. Wouldn't sneeze at a chance of him aboard my ship." Squinted eyes turned to Horatio.

"Yes," Horatio cleared his throat uncomfortably, "well, with regret, sir, my commission is with Captain Pellew, aboard the _Indie_." His tone carried every sign of civility, but Pellew sensed the panic that nearly twisted a different meaning into words meant to soothe.

"Tell me, Pellew," Rapier turned to face him, "is this young man really as reliable as he seems?"

"He has his faults, like any man," Pellew replied, "But I am proud to have him with me."

"But a Lieutenant! And so young!"

Horatio rolled his eyes and disappeared into his cup.

"Not so, sir." Pellew leaned onto the table. "Many a young man stood test for that commission."

"Yet few have the experience and knowledge to pass!"

"Mr. Hornblower does."

Rapier snorted. "I mean look at the lad! Large curls, and even larger eyes that slice right through you like a sword. You do not hide your emotions well, do you boy?"

"No, sir," Horatio responded meekly, and kicked Archie's shin beneath the table. The blond head jerked up immediately.

"And those cheekbones! Too pretty for a fleet, put a gown on him and he'd make the fairest lass this side of the. . ."

"Really, sir!" Horatio flushed.

"I only mean to say that you are a nice looking lad, and nice looking laddies should have nice looking lasses at their sides. Have you designs on a woman, Lieutenant?"

"I should think that business my own, sir," Horatio responded, his normally deep timbre plummeting to warning depths.

"I see." Rapier sat back, dissatisfied. Horatio opened his mouth, wishing to amend his statement, but shut it again as he felt the sharp prod in his side.

"We have been very busy at sea, sir," Archie said, trying not to sound as sluggish as he felt, "no time to visit the shores to satisfy our. . ."

"Desires?"

"Curiosity, sir." Archie set his jaw.

"Even I know better than to pry." Rapier dabbed at his mouth and flapped his napkin into obedience, then tossed it onto the rough-edged table. "It would appear as well that you lads take heed of your duty to the navy and King rather than long-haired lasses in those heels of theirs. Have you not seen them lately? Some are allowing their hair to trail down their backs in daylight. Scandalous."

"The young often wear their hair in such a way," Pellew commented. He sent a pointed look to the other Captain.

"Young?"

"Yes."

"Well, they all look the same to me. Too many years at sea, mind that doesn't happen to you, lad." Rapier smacked Horatio's knee under the table. "You get yourself a lady."

"Yes, sir."

"So he can promptly abandon her, when he returns to sea?" Archie asked.

"Have a care, laddie," Rapier's voice was stern, "or should I say _Acting_ Lieutenant?"

The one punctuated word sent Archie to silence.

Horatio glared as Pellew stood. "We should take our leave, sir, it is late and Mr. Kennedy here has watch duties."

"Does he now? In his condition?" Rapier sighed. "Very well, then." He stood and pulled his stout shoulders back. "It has been a pleasure, gentlemen, a right pleasure. We must meet more often." He gestured to the door as the others stood and shakily bowed their thanks.

Aboard the _Indefatigable_, Pellew relaxed, his breath releasing in a long-suffering sigh. He noticed Kennedy turn to him with a puzzled expression, and raised his thick brows in anticipation. "Watch duties, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy. I had to clear the room of you before your fool head went off, and unfortunately that was all I could think to say." Pellew was unusually candid, due to the drink. He winced and put a hand to his head. "I _can_ say I don't care for his wine."

"And I less for his company," Horatio muttered.

"Still your tongue, man! He is your superior officer!"

"My apologies, sir." Horatio lowered his gaze, though his face still reflected resentment at Rapier's inquiry.

"Still," Pellew shook his head slowly, "he is unfair in his questioning, even with the defense of drink. No, I could see where it was headed, and I wasn't in the mood." A wince followed. "Now I suggest we retire and try to sleep off this devil's brew."

"All in a day's work, Captain." Archie quipped, only to lower his head at Pellew's stern glance.

"Aye sir. Thank you."

"Sleep well, sir." Both young men saluted and headed to their own bunks, but not before backlash.

"_Acting_ Lieutenant," Archie muttered, bracing himself against the hold, "Rapier lowers me to a peasant with his tone."

"He meant nothing, Archie."

"Then what of his comment about you? You think he meant nothing by that?"

"He is an old man full of talk, and he was drunk." Horatio allowed a chuckle to escape his lips, and he caught Archie's arm as his friend swayed. "As are you."

"I am not old!"

"But well past drunk. Now as the Captain suggests, you should sleep it off. I believe you have watch in eight hours time, just enough."

"Truth comes from a drunk man's mouth, Horatio."

"And regrets follow on the morrow. There is such a thing as protocol, Archie, and we must follow it." He sighed and leaned against his door. "Though I'll admit his comments stung."

Archie reached out and squeezed his friend's arm. "Good night, Horatio."

"Fare well, Archie. And no more thoughts of it." Horatio returned the gesture. But his own mind remained unsettled, and he lay awake for most of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

"No, Archie, like this." Frustrated, Horatio took the chalkboard from his friend and corrected the equation. "Now do you see?"

"Yes. Yes, I-I guess I do." The blue eyes showed a puzzlement that Horatio was not used to seeing on his friend's face.

"What is the matter, Archie? You can do these equations reverse-ways. Why the hesitation?"

"I'm more a man of words, Horatio."

"That's rubbish. You are as competent in mathematical equations as I. What has you so distracted?"

"Distracted? Is that what you call it?" He reached down to pick up a book which had fallen with the ship's motion.

"Archie," Horatio said sternly, and angled the board towards him, "look at this mistake. This wasn't misunderstanding, it was negligence. You simply were not thinking."

Horatio usually managed a fair amount of humility to seep into his otherwise authoritative tone. Archie recognized it now, and knew his friend wasn't merely chastising. "I apologize, Horatio. Perhaps I should take tutorial another time."

Horatio sighed and closed the book he had been holding while straightening his spine. Below him the crew talked as they worked, each word mixing with the next in a steady stream that could not be deciphered. The waves continued to crash steadily against the boat as dark clouds loomed behind them, and Horatio held his doubts as to whether this particular storm would clip and pass.

Archie's face was as dark as the oppressive cloud they were fleeing. The lieutenant noticed this, and it concerned him. He had the feeling his friend hadn't slept the previous night, despite the lateness and drink. "Does your head pain you?" he asked gently.

"A bit. Yours?"

"I dare say a bit more." Horatio sighed again and looked at his book, slapping it lightly against his palm. "I suppose it just as well that we wait for study until we are both more fit to concentrate. For all I know I am not presenting the problem correctly."

"Now I know why they call our drink 'spirit rations'. It breaks your spirit down into tiny bits. Rational doesn't enter into it."

"Obviously you are pained. That almost made sense."

"But not quiet, eh?" Archie smiled slightly, then turned a serious expression to his friend, one that Horatio knew meant there was a question pending that he wasn't yet ready to answer. "Horatio, why the study? You haven't approached me with a book in months."

Horatio paused, considering his response carefully. "I, well, I just thought maybe your. . .constitution. . .was strong enough to resume study."

"You mean after imprisonment in Spain? In case you haven't noticed, I was promoted upon my return." Slim brows raised. "You had noticed that, right? You tease me all the time."

Horatio was uncertain as to whether Archie was teasing in return. "For that," he placed his hand to his own chest, "I do apologize."

"Oh, come now, it was really just that one time, and I deserved it." He twisted to face Horatio. "But tell me true, are you ashamed of my rank?"

"What are you talking about, Archie?" Horatio exclaimed.

"Is this about what Captain Rapier said last night after dinner? The way he emphasized that I am merely an acting lieutenant?"

Horatio was taken aback. He had thought Archie proud of his new commission, Horatio himself was. Surely he had communicated it, hadn't his pleasure been obvious? He seemed to remember it as another occasion where they had more than their usual share of spirits. It was an achievement, after such as his friend had been through. . .he shook his head, trying to come to terms with his friend's sudden doubt. "Archie," he said sincerely, "first, there is nothing you can possibly do that would make me ashamed of you, so do not think on it. Second, I merely felt that Captain Rapier's comment had. . . offended you. You did seem pretty warm about it. And. . . I thought perhaps we could prepare you for the next exam."

Archie turned away, his eyes downcast. "Because you cannot stand being friends with someone lowlier than yourself?"

Horatio's tongue caught in the back of his throat. For several moments making a sound was impossible. "_What_?"

Archie faced Horatio, turning towards him in all seriousness. . .and grinned. "Gotcha."

Horatio blew out haughtily, his mouth working to form words that complimented his life as a naval officer. "You. . .you-that was totally unfair and unacceptable!" He tried to fume, but Archie's affable expression subdued him. His wide mouth curved into a smile.

"I appreciate the gesture, Horatio, really. You're a good friend. But I have to do this on my own terms, and to be honest, I hadn't given my rank another thought until he slimed the word out of his mouth like a parasite. I figure one of us will always have to be in charge, and if you'll pardon my saying so, I would just as soon it be you."

"Now, Archie. . ."

"Oh come now, we both know I'm not ready for any more responsibility than I have at the present." His eyes sought the sea. "I will be, but not just yet."

Once again, Horatio couldn't speak. He blinked, and his face lightened as he nodded. It was good that Archie had commented on the future, and in a positive way. It was the first time he had done so in far too long. Horatio accepted the comment for what it was, and faced the crewmen on the deck below. "I suppose we should resume our duties, then. There is much to be done down there, and I fear this weather has the crew in enough of a quandary that they will neglect the simplest of tasks much as you've neglected your sums."

"And you've been studying your Spanish, have you?" Archie asked innocently as he stood.

"That was a special occasion."

"And handy if we are to be captured again."

"Oh, no. That will not happen. I'll not allow it." Horatio sent a pointed look at Archie and stood as Mr. Bracegirdle arrived on deck. "Mr. Bracegirdle, sir!"

"Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Kennedy." Bracegirdle eyed the two young men as he always did, as though they were cowering in a corner, up to no good. In truth, he cared for and deeply admired the two lads before him, but he did enjoy playing the part of the old codger on occasion. He saw the volume in Horatio's hand. "Busy studying, then?"

"Mr. Kennedy and I were just reviewing our sums, Mr. Bracegirdle."

"Indeed. Expecting to face trials upon landfall in two months time, Mr. Kennedy?"

Archie's thin brows raised almost imperceptibly at the veiled compliment. "Not that soon, I shouldn't expect, sir." His mouth quirked. Secretly, he was pleased that Bracegirdle apparently had the confidence in him to learn a vast amount in a short time.

"I see. That's a shame, seems the Navy is currently lacking in fine naval officers. I would like to see you higher in the rankings." He left Archie to ponder the prospect as he turned to Horatio. "I'm told to inform you, Mr. Hornblower, that you have first watch as the sun sets, followed by Mr. Kennedy here. Lt. Thompson has taken ill and has retired below."

"Is he alright, sir?" Horatio's brows furrowed. Thompson was a transfer from the _Clementine_, who had arrived for a week's experience on a larger ship.

"It will be decided tomorrow as to his status on this ship. He may well return to the _Clementine_."

"I wish him the best, sir. He seemed a fine gentleman."

"Seemed? You act as though he has the plague, Mr. Hornblower," Bracegirdle commented lightly. "Now off to your duties."

"Yes sir." The two young men saluted and walked to the deck.

Archie couldn't help a jest at his friend. "You did sound a bit fatalistic there, Horatio. I fear my artificial black mood has taken true form in you"

"I supposed I did, but I assure you it was not intended that way." Horatio's face assumed the proper look of a senior officer on deck as he surveyed the rigging from below. "We should cop the sail, this wind seems to increase though we pull further from the storm."

"Should I give the order, then?"

"I think so, Mr. Kennedy. And have them pull the topgallants as well, we can't have that banging about. There must be more storms ahead as well as behind."

"Well, our luck can't hold forever, can it?" Archie strode forward and started yelling out orders, and the men scrambled to obey. Horatio clasped his hands behind his back and looked up again; something did not feel right. It crept into him like a coldness in his bones. The clouds behind him remained dark, yet now he could see an even darker band on the horizon, like poured metal. He winced, then called Kennedy back.

"I don't suppose you fancy a trip to the fighting top."

Archie frowned and looked up at the web of ropes waving in the growing breeze. "But James is up there, he hasn't shouted a warning."

"That's what worries me. He is up there, but..." Horatio called out and waited, attracting the attention of the men on deck.

Archie shielded his eyes. "You think something is wrong?"

"I think he would have warned us about the storm pending on the horizon prior to seeing it with my own eyes." The wind whipped about his face, suddenly much colder than before, and he pulled his hat down tightly, then took it off completely. "I'll go."

Archie stopped him, gripping his shoulder. He quickly let his hand drop. "No, sir, you are the ranking officer currently on deck. Let me go. I'm used to the lookouts anyway, and I want to see this storm." Horatio nodded, and accepted Archie's hat and cape as Matthews and Styles approached.

"What's going on, sir?" Matthew's soft voice betrayed his concern. It wasn't commonplace for a Lieutenant, nor an acting Lieutenant, to remove his gear in this manner while on deck.

"Look up to the fighting top, gentlemen," Horatio said as Archie started to climb. "What do you see?"

Both older men gazed upwards and winced. "Nothing, sir."

"Exactly."

This response sent a puzzled exchange between the two, and they craned their necks upwards. "Isn't James up there, sir? What's happened?" Styles asked.

"That is what Mr. Kennedy is trying to ascertain." The wind suddenly made the presence of the storm known as it slammed the hull of the ship. The _Indie _turned, broadside sinking to the grey waters before lifting up. The men grabbed onto each other and whatever object was nearby, and Horatio quickly darted a concerned glance upwards. He saw Archie clinging desperately to the ropes, holding himself loosely as to glide with the ship. After she righted, he resumed his climb.

Horatio hated sending him up there. He knew Archie was a competent sailor, if for no other reason than for the fact that the man had been on ships much longer than he himself. He knew his anxiety stemmed only from the odd sense of overprotectiveness he seemed to have acquired since their return from imprisonment. He'd had a taste of what sea ventures were like without Archie, and while exciting and worthy, it lacked flair. Archie provided that flair with his acute observations about the ironies of sea travel, the war, and life itself. He had ached for the presence of his missing friend, and hadn't realized how much until after Archie's recovery in that Spanish hell hole, when he started making quips and started acting like himself again. In that moment, Horatio realized he had regained a precious treasure, and even the smallest act, like sending him up to the fighting top in a wind, filled him with apprehension. Archie could handle it. But could Horatio himself? He knew he needed to examine this deeply seeded fear of losing Archie again, and come to terms with it before it dampened their relationship. This was the Navy, where people did well to spend a year together and friendships lasted as long as their assignments, and it was war, which held no promises in itself. He knew Archie would not appreciate being held less accountable to his standard, friendship or no.

Archie, for his part, was cursing his bravado for leaving him, and cursing himself for creating such a predicament. He clung to the ropes, looking down at the deck far below. Tendrils of hair blew into his eyes but he had no desire to release his grip to brush it aside. The wind would likely take care of that, anyhow. He could see Horatio and the others looking up at him. Wonderful. He usually loved an audience, but now was not the time. Looking up showed white skies rapidly darkening. It also showed a slumped figure sitting on the platform, one leg hanging off. "Mr. James! Are you all right up there?" He wasn't expecting a reply, and braced himself to continue his climb.

Horatio watched as Archie carefully pulled himself onto the lookout. His sudden move showed that something was indeed wrong. The blond head disappeared.

Horatio could stand no more. "Mr. Kennedy! Report!" His voice just carried over the sudden gale that tore at the deck.

The blond head reappeared. "Sir! He's highly fevered, sir! We need to get him below decks!"

That went without saying, but god, this was not the time to send more men up the ropes. Horatio quickly turned to Styles. "Set a cot, Styles, and get more men over here. We'll need at least four going up to steady James as he comes down."

"Aye, sir!" Styles and Matthews were instantly at work, arranging the canvas that would double as a hammock for James. Bracegirdle returned to deck to see the commotion, and joined Horatio, yelling out orders to pull the topsails, then sent word to the Captain. Within moments Styles, Matthews, Oldroyd, and Sims were scampering up the ropes as Monty waited below. They climbed hesitantly, but as quickly as the situation allowed, with Styles carrying a great length of rope looped over his shoulder. The other three carried the canvas between them, the threaded rope looped over their arm. Styles threw his end over the yardarm and scrambled back down, untangling it from the rigging until Monty held it firm in his grip. Then Styles was back up, and helping to steady the cot.

It was hard work, but Hornblower was determined not to leave James up there in a storm, and he was also determined to get his friends back down as soon as possible. His voice was hoarse from yelling instructions over the weather. Bracegirdle placed his hand on Horatio's shoulder and barked out orders himself, giving Horatio time to just stand and observe, and fret. The recovery operation was not going well.

The constant tilting of the ship made security a near impossibility. The men could be seen clinging desperately, losing their footing, regaining it, grabbing hold of each other. Horatio had never seen anything like it. _But then_, he thought as he held his hat firmly on his head and leaned against Bracegirdle, _I've never seen a wind like this, nor one that has come on so suddenly. _The metal cloud could still be seen on the horizon, but the storm behind them launched itself forward like a beast, and the wind preceding it threatened to tear every sail loose. The crew scrambled to secure the deck as the rains came. Horatio gripped his hat and pictured the wind whipping about the ship in curling circles, trying to tie the ship down tightly to the enormous waves. He could feel the _Indie_ breaking free as she jumped the waves. It seemed the weather, which until now had been so pleasant, had grown weary of their constant presence on the sea and intended to bring them under.

It was a long time before the sea allowed the ship to remain upright. Once again he saw Archie, who had braced himself and James against the mast all this time by wrapping his arms around both, and could just make out the men carefully rolling the inert body into the canvas wrap. Matthews waved down at Monty, who slowly released tension on the rope that had been thrown over the yardarm. The four on the rigging slowly descended beside James, making certain the load went down smoothly, holding on to the canvas and bracing it against the tides. Once they were well clear, Archie started his own descent.

It took forever. Never before had Horatio felt such impatience. The men would stop, then slowly resume their decent, and poor Archie looked drenched and miserable as the skies cracked open above him. Horatio waited patiently, hearing directions that could not be made out from his vantage, but that the men above him understood. He was glad to hear Archie's voice, glad he sounded in control. At one point the cot shifted violently, and Archie let go with one hand, reaching down from his great distance as though to stabilize it, and Horatio's soul screamed out. Finally the cot was on deck, the men were carrying James below, and Archie, who had stopped to tie a loose knot on the sail, was halfway down.

The ship lurched.

Horatio slammed onto the deck, the rain slicking the wooden surface like a sheet of ice. He felt barrels tumbling over him from near the storage hold, heard a curse, and felt strong hands pulling him up. It was the Captain. "Who left those damn things on deck?" Pellew yelled.

"We were in the process of securing everything, sir, the wind came on sudden!"

"Get this side secured, you know better than this! Is the man down?"

"Yes, sir!" Horatio winced up at the mast, his hat gone. He heard a loud crack, and terrified cries. The air was now black as night, and he fought to see. A crackle of lightning showed what he feared; there was simply nothing to be seen.

His stomach hardened. His breath caught and wouldn't let go.

Pellew barked orders for Albright to take the wheel, and left Bracegirdle to give the coordinates to steer them from the storm. He felt a grip on his arm as Horatio turned him. "The mast, sir!" The large mizzen was fractured, leaning, and empty of rigging.

Captain Pellew winced in the rain, and his face showed the shock Horatio felt. "We must get the rest of these men bellow deck!"

Horatio had suddenly pulled from his grasp, now he turned a frantic face to his commander. "It's Mr. Kennedy, sir," he yelled, his voice steady, though his face betrayed his worry. "He was on the ropes, sir."

Pellew knew the likely hood of telling Mr. Hornblower to abandon his friend was as unlikely as waving his hand and bringing out the sun. He heard movement behind him. "Matthews! Go with Mr. Hornblower, he seems to have misplaced Mr. Kennedy!" He did not need to send more to rescue what wounded there may be, he knew the sailors were already making a job of it.

"Aye sir!" Matthews could see the tight lines on Horatio's face, and they set off with Pellew's orders as a backdrop.

"This way!" Horatio waved his arm against the rain, knowing there was no way to fend off the drops, and furious that they were obstructing his view so. There was another loud crack, almost like the fire of a cannon, and the wailing of strained ropes. They snapped free as the mast completed its downward fall.

Horatio had flung himself to the deck. The cries of more wounded filled his ears as his raised his head. He felt Matthews pull him to his feet.

The two men stepped carefully. They shouldered past those who had survived the collapse, inquiring quickly as to their state before continuing on. The ship lurched violently and threw Matthews to the deck, causing him considerable pain that he refused to voice. But it was a blessing, because he landed on a thick, hard pile of rope that had been dislodged, and saw a hand.

"Mr. Hornblower sir!" Matthews recovered himself and starting pulling at the heavy rope dripping with rain. Horatio saw the hand, saw the mass of collapsed rigging that had to be moved. He gripped the hand; to his relief the hand slowly gripped back.

"Matthews, find Styles!" He didn't wait for a response, instead he started shoving tangles of rope away, tossing splinters aside carefully. His friend's body slowly revealed itself, a face pale and pinched with pain, the rest of him covered with debris. "Archie?" He cupped his friend's face in his hands, then brushed away the debris from his friend's chest, checking for blood. There was a little, a red stain on white, but thankfully it did not appear serious. As he checked his limbs, he noticed Archie wincing in confusion. With one hand he moved the final rope from his leg as Matthews and Styles approached, and leaned down. "Archie, are you hurt? Look at me, man! Are you injured?" It seemed a stupid thing to say.

It took Archie a moment to realize what had happened. His eyes visibly cleared as the events uncoiled in his mind. The rain drove into his eyes painfully, he knew Horatio was there but couldn't see him. Confused, he tried to move, and barked in pain.

Horatio's brows flew to his hairline, and he jerked his hands back. "What? What is it?"

"I-I believe I've hurt my arm." He found he couldn't move it. Thoughts of splinters piercing his skin made him tremble, but there was no blood that he could see.

Horatio nodded and turned large eyes to Matthews. "Matthews, can you take him down? Tell Dr. Hepplewhite I'll be there shortly. Archie, you go on down, stay with Matthews, do you hear me?" He didn't like the way Archie nodded in confusion. "Styles! Help me clear this deck!"

"Aye, sir!" He pointedly avoided the topic that preyed on their minds; that it was a miracle Archie had not fallen victim to the mast itself. It lay a few feet away, splintered from the impact.

"He'll be fine, sir."

"Of course, Styles. Oldroyd! Brunsen! Get this deck cleared!" Horatio saw the men busy and hurried to the fo'c'sle. Pellew was there, eyeing the storm with disdain.

"This promises to be a nasty one, Mr. Hornblower," he said. "Is everything secure on deck?"

"Nearly there, sir, with the obvious exception of the fallen rigging."

"Sloppy work, gentlemen, very sloppy indeed! You have allowed yourselves to become careless, and several men have paid the price for it! Who last checked the rigging for weather-readiness?"

Horatio sent a glance towards Mr. Bracegirdle and cleared his throat. "With respect, sir, the storm came so suddenly. . ."

"And did you think our luck would carry through, Mr. Hornblower? Did you think we would be fortunate enough to avoid all the storms on the seven seas? Think, man!"

"Captain Pellew, sir," Mr. Bracegirdle stepped in, "I can vouch for the readiness of the rigging myself, I sent a crew up not two days ago to re-knot the ropes. I do believe it was a hazard of nature and not neglect that caused our mast to topple."

"I see." His steely gaze passed over Mr. Bracegirdle before asking, "And how is the good Mr. Kennedy?" Pellew's dark eyes were piercing.

Pellew's point was taken. "Well, sir, considering," Horatio replied, rather weakly.

"Then I suggest you return to your duties, sir! Get these men below!"

Horatio touched his hat. "Aye, aye, sir!" He hurried down, pushing men towards the hold and yelling for an evacuation of any man not required to be on deck. A skeleton crew remained, as did the Captain and senior officers. Together they weathered the storm.

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The seas did calm, finally, after a hard fought battle that exhausted every man on board. Once below, Horatio habitually flung his sopping hat onto his dingy hammock and ran a hand through his soaked hair. He eyed his mistake dubiously, and with a sigh that was more of a growl, he picked up his hat and tossed it onto his sea chest. He examined the hammock, which thankfully held only a spot of moisture. His clothes ended up in a wet pile; he was too fatigued to shake them out and lay them properly to dry. He did dry himself as best as he could in the damp, and dressed. Pellew's condemnation rang in his ears and he reached back in his mind, trying to remember the exact day the rigging had been checked while wondering if neglect was truly the cause of the collapse, and of Archie's injury. It was very possible that everything had fallen due to the winds; perhaps they hadn't lowered the sails quickly enough. But he knew that any given situation played out according to it's own design, and they managed it as best they could, well, with the exception of the barrels on deck. On second thought, maybe they had indeed been allowing themselves too much leisure. He studied his face in the glass. The stress was showing, but not too badly. His long fingers rubbed his skin, pulling the fatigue along his features. A knock made him turn. "Yes?" he called out, suddenly feeling very sluggish.

"It's Matthews, sir," a faint voice replied from the other side of the door. "Captain wishes to see you in his cabin."

Of course he did. "Thank you, Mr. Matthews." Horatio met the eyes of his reflection and reassured himself with his own glance. He snatched up his hat and placed it firmly on his head, wincing at the wet, cool material, exhaled sharply, and opened his door to see Matthews standing there. Horatio hesitated, uncertain as to why the man had remained.

Matthews cleared his throat and scratched his stubble, then looked down. "Beggin' your pardon sir, I just thought I'd. . ." he hesitated, then met Horatio's eyes, " For what it's worth, I don't think you were responsible at all. The wind did kick up sudden-like, and we were getting the sails down."

"Thank you, Matthews. But I'm afraid the Captain bears final word on that matter."

"You know the Captain, sir, he's a fair man. You'll be all right."

Horatio's arched brows raised slightly at this vote of confidence, given by a man with more experience at sea than Horatio's own living years. "May I ask you something, Matthews?"

"Certainly, sir," he responded, surprised.

"Why did you never apply for commission?"

Matthews seemed dumbstruck. He stammered for a moment, then spoke frankly. "Do you know, no one has ever asked me that before, sir."

"I am surprised."

"I come from a family of fishermen, sir. It simply never occurred to me. I'm not a military man like you, just a man of the sea. I doubt I would make an officer."

"I believe you would make a very fine officer, Mr. Matthews," Horatio said warmly. He touched his hat and walked off, not seeing the pure appreciation on the older man's face, nor the startled tear that appeared moments later and hung on his lashes.

Captain Pellew was waiting, his hands clasped behind his back, when Horatio entered. He ducked through the door and closed it carefully behind him, tucking his hat beneath his arm and looking apprehensive. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes." Pellew lifted his chin and regarded the young man. "Yes." He eyed the hat, which dripped. Horatio lowered his gaze, and slowly placed the hat on the very, very corner of the table that separated them. Pellew's brows rose, but he kept his amusement to himself. Instead he walked across the small room to the lieutenant, his hands still clasped, but his demeanor more nonchalant. "I believe I did you a slight disservice, Lieutenant Hornblower. I must admit that I spoke hastily, and I apologize for my tone."

Horatio was almost embarrassed. "Sir, there is no need. . ."

"There is a need!" Pellew snapped. "My own feelings are not so insignificant as to warrant no explanation. I have something to say, and I am damn well was going to say it." He took a steadying breath. "The storm caught me off guard as well, and I hated admitting to it. I had occasion to think back, and I recall the rigging being examined. I believe, as does Mr. Bracegirdle, that nothing could have been done to prevent the damage to the ship or to your friend."

"Still, sir, had we been more prepared. . ."

"Yes, well, it was a hard lesson learned, and as much my fault as anyone else. I knew these damn storms were about, and I've seen them come upon a ship faster than a starving wolf on prey. I should have kept the ship at readiness, but truth be told, these weeks of inactivity have caused me to become lax as well." He sat at his desk. "Our hull has suffered some damage, god knows from what, and we do not have the supplies to mend the mast at sea. We must make port at Dartsmouth to amend repairs."

"Aye sir."

"The doctor was in here as well. You'll be glad to know that Mr. James' fever has broken, as has Mr. Thompson's. Mr. Hepplewhite has both men secluded. And I believe Mr. Kennedy should be up and about soon." He pretended not to notice Horatio's face brighten when he looked up. "I suppose you'll be wanting to see him before starting your watch."

"Yes, sir! That is, if I may. . .sir."

"Of course you may," Pellew groused. "Just mind you make it fast, sir, no larking about!"

"Aye sir. Thank you."

"You may go." He nodded at Horatio's salute.

The captain watched as Horatio took his leave quickly, and a memory flashed before him, one of his first command, and of the man who was to become his fast friend. His large eyes, his quick wit, his penchant for trouble. It was doubtful his career would have lasted long in the Navy, he hadn't been cut out for taking orders. But the two became fast friends, and indeed Pellew was the only one he would listen to. He had said it was because he had to respect the authority of a man before following it, and Pellew he respected. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever said, and he remembered those words as his friend's wrapped body splashed into the sea. He hoped, with all his heart, that young Hornblower and Kennedy would be spared that pain.

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Archie was sitting up in bed when Horatio arrived, gingerly shifting his shoulder as his arm was fastened in a sling. "Archie! How are you?" Horatio stood beside his friend, giving Dr. Hepplewhite a nod as he walked away to fetch a clean cloth.

His friend seemed much more lucid. "I've been worse, Horatio, that is a certainty. Good thing I was close to the deck when I fell."

"Good thing you fell where you did. The mizzen was but a few feet away."

"Fortunate indeed." Archie gave a small smile and winced. "I'm amazed that James never fell from the fighting top. He had his hand fixed to the mast to keep his place. Fool should have just told someone he was ill. . ." his voice faded and he looked to Hepplewhite's ministrations. The doctor placed the cloth on the small chest wound, now stitched, and pressed Archie's hand to it. He looked at Horatio, and seeing that the Lieutenant was there to stay, frowned and walked off.

Archie chuckled. "You've deprived him of his plaything. He'll not forgive you, he's told me how incredibly bored he has been. Seems four injured and two ill are not enough for him."

The wood creaked around them as the waves continued to batter the ship's hull, but not in such a savage manner as before. Horatio lowered himself onto the edge of the makeshift bed as his friend lay back. "You had me worried, I'll admit it. I did not wish. . ." he fell silent, his tongue betraying him.

"I'm fine, Horatio. Truly. A couple of scrapes, my arm in a sling for a few days while my shoulder heals. Nothing more. Nothing broken, nothing impaled. I'll be out of this place and on my feet in the morning." He smiled and winced again.

"Knowing you, you will be on deck tonight for your usual watch. I had better not find you there, or I'll have you flogged myself."

"Such consideration." Archie smiled, and closed his eyes as the doctor returned and placed a cool rag on his exposed shoulder.

Horatio smiled and looked down at his knotted fingers. "Archie, do you remember what happened?"

"You mean when I fell?"

"Yes."

His brows furrowed, the blue eyes narrowing. "I don't know. I was looking down, waiting for the men below to clear off, and I heard a noise above me. I saw the topmast tilt, and then it was like the whole world was jerked form beneath my feet. There was nothing but air and ropes and a hard landing."

"Not a loose knot, you think?"

"I think the wind caught us." Archie sounded tired. He frowned at the cup Hepplewhite held to his lips, and gave in to it, then passed Horatio a wry look. "You're trying to blame yourself, aren't you?" A ghost of a grin crossed his lips, and he lay his head back and closed his eyes.

Horatio rose to leave, pulling the doctor aside by his elbow. "Tell me truthfully, is he well enough?"

Dr. Hepplewhite nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes, he's fine. He suffered a nasty bump on the head when he went down, he has a good sized knot to show for it. His shoulder is merely strained, his cuts will heal. There is no need to fret, he will be up and about on the morrow."

"Those ropes saved him. He did not hit the deck when he fell, but was protected by being entangled."

"Lucky devil."

"We shall have to report for repairs, I'm afraid," Horatio said wearily. "The Captain doubts our crew can cope with such, but then, they have surprised us before."

"We can sail well enough with what we've got to get to port, provided the good Captain can keep us from the rest of the blasted storms. I've been watching them, lad, off in the distance while you and your men were supposedly tending to duties. I knew we would meet with one sooner or later, there were just too many. The skies and ocean alike are very active this time of the year, and we are further south than we usually are. 'Tis the time to be wary."

Horatio took the slight reprimand, but only because the Captain had issued it first. "I'm sure we'll keep a closer eye out, thank you, Doctor. I must return, I trust you will keep me informed of Mr. Kennedy's condition?"

"He'll be up and about tomorrow, ready for his duties. Just keep him off the ropes." Horatio grimaced at the last comment, and went on his way after passing one more glance towards the sleeping man.

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Captain Pellew stared out of his window to the open seas. The storms had passed, leaving the _Indie _to yet another perfect morning. The sight of gulls showed that they were nearing land, though no land was visible to the new man on the fighting top, a man who'd had to replace James due to his sudden onslaught of fever. The mere thought of sickness was enough to make Pellew feel uneasy, the pitching and rolling of his own stomach matching that of the sea. Undoubtedly a malady of some sort had come aboard with the transfer, but it wasn't enough to warrant a quarantine. In fact, both men were doing well, just down enough to require a few days rest.

His stomach churned. The thought that he himself may also be affected was unacceptable to him, especially under the current circumstances.

The messenger from the _Clementine_ stood behind him, and looked ill at ease. Pellew had studied him carefully, noting the stiffness of his posture, the way he cast his eyes about the cabin. He was tempted to provide the poor man with a spirit. On the other hand, Pellew had to admit to himself that it served his ego well to see someone who served under a so-called sea legend quiver in his company. It was for a perfectly selfish reason that he allowed the pitiable boy to stand there and sweat.

Hornblower arrived promptly, his now-dry hat tucked carefully underneath his arm, and as usual, having to dip his head slightly to allow his lanky frame passage through the door. He looked professional, composed, courteous. He gave a nod to the messenger without owing him anything, and turned his attention to his Captain. "Sir, I believe you summoned me."

Pellew turned. "I summoned both you and Mr. Kennedy. What keeps him?"

"Assessing the repairs on the mast that fell, sir. He was in a situation that required his direction, he begs your forgiveness for his tardiness. Rest assured it is not intentional, and he should be along directly."

Pellew regarded Hornblower with a glare, but he knew the young man was not impressed. "Very well. How fares he?"

"Perfectly capable, provided he doesn't have to cut his own meat at the table." Horatio's wide mouth couldn't hold back his smile.

"Would you say he is capable enough to serve on another ship?"

Dark brows drew over tight eyes. Another ship? Archie? Surely not a transfer, there was no cause for one. "Sir?"

Pellew pulled himself tall. "The reason for the summons, Lt. Hornblower," he said officially, "is this. The _Clementine_ suffered damage during an attack, then was further brutalized during a storm while attempting to return to port. She was hit hard, and I'm afraid much of the crew was lost."

Horatio's mind was caught on Pellew's first cause. "An attack, sir?"

"Apparently she ran into a lone French frigate. There is no news yet as to the conditions of surrender, or if there was one." Pellew looked to the messenger. "And you can tell us nothing."

"The ship was standing, sir, she'd not been sunken. That's what I heard."

"And you were not on the ship at the time."

"I heard of the attack from port, sir. I had been set off to tend to some personal affairs of the Captain."

Horatio sent a confused look from one man to the other. "I – am sorry to hear that," he said carefully. He knew what news was coming, and he dreaded it.

"Amongst the men missing, and presumed dead, are Lt. Mainmen and Acting Lt. Staves. With Lt. Thompson ill, that leaves no senior officers. I offered my services. Therefore. . ."

"Please, don't say it," Horatio muttered under his breath, desperately.

Pellew bristled. "You would deny the chance to serve your country and king by way of helping a man who is in desperate need? I expected more from you, Lt. Hornblower."

"Of course not, I mean . .sir, I spoke unfairly. I would be most happy to assist in any way possible, of course." His nostrils flared as he kept himself in check. The ship had turned, and the lantern cast a yellow light over him before passing to the back wall.

"You are certain Mr. Kennedy is up to the task?"

Horatio bowed slightly. "We are to escort a disabled ship back to the shoreline, are we not? How difficult can it be?"

Pellew raised his head. "Good man. Midshipman Roy, you may tell Captain Rapier that we will rendevous with the _Clementine_ at his coordinates. Also inform him that I will keep Lt. Thompson on board to see to his recovery. If nothing else, he can help to replace the hole I'm creating by sending the two of you over. In the meantime, Lieutenant, please ready yourself for departure. I still wish to speak with Mr. Kennedy once he is freed from his duties."

"Again, my apologies on his behalf. . ."

"Understood, Lt. Hornblower. I know the man Mr. Kennedy is, whatever detains him must be important. It had damn well better be." The door opened at the moment, and Archie ducked in. His quick eyes scanned the room and took in the scene; his open expression was sincere.

"Captain Pellew," he started, removing his hat with a gesture of greatest respect.

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Hornblower here told me you were detained. You may explain the circumstances, and I will tell you my news. Mr. Hornblower. . ."

"Yes, sir?"

"Be readied in an hour's time. We are about to cross paths with the _Clementine_, it will be our closest contact, and you must be readied for the jolly boat."

"Sir, are we not going to dock at the same port?"

"Captain Rapier has other business, and prefers to dock further north in England. That bloody man will manage it, too, if he has to climb out and swim toting the ship by a rope with his teeth." He frowned, then glared at Horatio. "That is all, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." Horatio saluted and caught Archie's curious glance before taking his leave.


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't believe our luck," Archie groused. He sat in the bow of the jolly boat, half slumped over the side in disgust. "I'd rather clean the mess for a month."

"I'd rather serve Captain Rapier," Horatio commented. He shot a quick glance at the messenger, who must have heard Archie's words, and chose to ignore them.

Archie was less mindful. "I mean, the dinner was bad enough. Now we have to listen to his exploits day in and day out. I shall go mad, Horatio."

"Archie. . ." Horatio pinned his friend with a glance and cut his eyes towards the midshipman, whose own postured had stiffened as he held himself in check.

Archie realize what he had said, and who had heard it, and how this would not make his temporary transfer any easier. "Of course," he amended, "there is a lot to be learned from a man with such vast experience. If my arm didn't ache so, I would find myself very appreciative indeed."

Horatio hid his smile and cast his eyes back to the sea. The perception was so different, looking at the sea from a jolly boat rather than above decks on the _Indie_. He felt more like a part of the water down here; the waves rolled with him rather than under him. Here, he was more at their mercy. They swelled like giants in the distance, rolling towards him as barrels down a hill, but disappeared upon their arrival, dipping beneath the small boat and providing a spectacular, if momentary, view. He had hoped the seas would be more calm, they were calm back at the _Indie_, but the _Clementine_ was now in sight and he knew he had to endure the ceaseless bouncing only a short while longer.

They were welcomed aboard with some reluctance, which was understandable to Horatio's mind. It was hard serving on a different ship with a different crew, especially a ship that was disabled not only in practice but by loss of men. He knew the boundaries of trust were to be laid out and respected, and a glance at Archie's suddenly serious expression showed he knew the same. They were greeted by Captain Rapier in his cabin.

To say the cabin was tiny was like saying Nelson was relatively unheard of, or that they were engaged in a mild tiff rather than a war. Yet he managed to cram a full table and four chairs into the space, with little room for anything else. Captain Rapier was very stout, but also very tall, and had to bend in order to fit. It looked to be a most disagreeable lot, but the captain was obviously used to the situation, for he managed to amble about with the grace and manner of a man in the midst of a flower-flocked meadow. Horatio, however, felt the strain of standing stiff-shouldered with head slightly bowed. Archie, being of smaller build, was able to stand in relative comfort, if a slight bit claustrophobic. Captain Rapier was sitting in a hard chair with a large wooden back, a chair that was much more prominent than the other three. It put Horatio in mind of a throne, and he wondered if that was the intended affect. Rapier eyed both of them carefully. "I want to thank the two of you for your swift acceptance. I know it is hard to leave your own ship." His gaze lingered on Kennedy.

The sincerity was genuine, and caught Horatio completely off guard. "We are men of the Navy, sir, it is no trouble to render assistance to a ship in need. We are certain you would do the same."

"Well said." Rapier nodded stiffly. "I will not lie to you and say our time has been an easy one. For the past forty-eight hours we have left three men to rest in their quarters below, unable to move. We have lost twenty-two, eight in that devil storm. Our repairs are great, and, quite frankly, we are in a bit of a spot."

"Three men are down with. . .fever?" Horatio felt compelled to ask.

"Fever, spots, rash. We are not certain as to the illness."

"Or if it is contagious, sir." His thoughts fled to Lt. Thompson, and then to James.

"Of that we are not certain."

"And yet you invite two men onto your ship, not knowing what plague they may be carrying while using our good faith to your advantage?" Horatio's tone remained congenial, though his words were striking.

"The chances of your falling ill will remain slim as long as you are not in contact with the ill," Rapier remarked casually.

Horatio's voice darkened, not caring that he was in conflict with a legend. "Think, man! What of our return? What if we should spread this malady to our own crew?" His inner thought was, What if it was already spreading?

"I find that unlikely, seeing as how this is apparently conducted by physical contact, and you have had no contact with these men. And I do not care for your manner, sir!"

Horatio steadied himself. He could feel Archie's cautious eyes on him. "I beg your pardon, Captain, but hear me out. Your Lt. Thompson was ill with a fever. And one of our men nearly fell from the fighting top, suffering from the same malady. You think this a coincidence?"

"I say there is little to prove otherwise. Men die at sea all the time. However, if you see this unreasonable fear as cause to deter you from duty, then so be it. You'll not be the man I had hoped, Mr. Hornblower."

His tone echoed Pellew's earlier criticism. Horatio wasn't certain as to what man Captain Rapier wanted him to be, but he certainly was not going to be accused of cowardice, nor backing down. A look from Archie showed just how close he had come to dangerously over-stepping his bounds. "I do apologize, sir. Our own recent experiences have left me ill-mannered, I fear. I spoke in haste, and mean no disrespect."

Rapier looked down his nose at the two young men. The truth be told, there was little that Lt. Hornblower could do to wrong himself in the captain's eyes. He admired the young man's tenacity and apparent fearlessness. But Rapier had to carry his own role, and if he could intimidate these men as he managed to do with everyone else, all the better. Stories were better carried when the teller was in awe. "Very well. Now, as you are here, I would be happy to allow Mr. Rosland to lay down your duties and fill you in on the ship's schedule, good day, gentlemen." He started to wave them away, then noticed Archie's arm for the first time as the sling presented itself from beneath his heavy cloak. "What is this?" he asked slowly.

Kennedy moved his arm slightly, pulling it back underneath the thick material. "We had our own battle with the sea, sir. Our mizzen fell."

"Were you under it?"

"Very nearly." Archie avoided Horatio's glance.

"And yet Pellew sent you?" Rapier's voice carried to new heights. "Of what use are you with only one working arm, lad?"

Archie opened his mouth and closed it again. This time he did look at Horatio. A shadow passed over his face as the ship tilted, and he found himself bracing against the table with one hand.

Rapier grunted. "No balance, with one arm. I suppose you'll have to do, lad. Maybe you'll do something extraordinary and find yourself worthy of that promotion, eh?" Rapier passed behind Kennedy and clapped his good shoulder, making the poor man start. "We'll have to see to that, give you plenty of activities with which to prove your valuable skill." He sniffed haughtily. "Mr. Rosland, please show these gentlemen to their quarters, then get them up on deck. May as well forgo the uniforms, we have a lot of work to do and it would be no help if you have to protect the only jackets you own. White shirts are acceptable, unless you wish to borrow the crew's skivvies."

"Aye. . .sir." Hornblower said, and he and Kennedy saluted. The Captain held open the door as they walked through, and shut it firmly behind them.

Horatio and Archie stood outside, shoulder to shoulder, regarding Mr. Rosland in a manner that spoke volumes of their discomfort. Rosland smiled, obviously pleased that they were not going to waltz in and take command.

"This way, gentlemen."

Their quarters were small. Very small. It was to be expected. Still, Horatio banged his head three times on the low ceiling before growling and giving himself up to his cot with a curse. "I swear, Archie, I'm going to be patient with this situation if it kills me."

"At this rate, it just might." Archie's usual humor surfaced despite the Captain's words. Horatio was beginning to realize it as an internal defense. Free-spirited as Archie Kennedy was by nature, intense situations would bring the jibes more rapidly, and not always appropriately. It was something his friend had noticed about himself, and the lack of it had alarmed Horatio upon their return from Spain. Slowly that free spirit had returned, and Horatio felt the better for it, until it started getting the young man into trouble. The first incident was an innocent remark about a lady's shoes. Unfortunately the lady was married to one Rear Admiral Beckensworth, who saw the remark as anything but humorous, and the awkward apologies made thereafter even less so. Then there was Captain Bestain, and Admiral Hoiten. Finally Horatio had taken to placing himself either right in front of Archie, to prevent him access to the situation, or directly behind, to remind him with a subtle pinch or two to still his tongue. Even Pellew had commented on the young man's unusual brashness, and between the two of them they decided it was a way for the man to reconcile with his past, of coping with one horrible incident that had led to even worse circumstances. In short, he was letting off steam in the only way he knew how. And once realized, he did make an attempt to disguise it, or hold it within.

But it made Horatio even more nervous about their stay. A light voice drifted past his shoulder.

"Is it me, or does this ship seem to tilt more so than the _Indie_?"

"Smaller ship, Archie."

"Splendid." The ire was back.

They didn't have long to rest. Their coats were thrown off, and hats placed carefully on the single sea chest that sat between their hammocks. They walked to the deck to survey the damage and offer the assistance needed.

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The _Indie _was docked, but not at Dartsmouth. Men scurried about her like ants on a tree trunk, repairing her damage, and examining the remaining rigging. Pellew stood aground, as much out if his habitat as a shark out of water, his hands clasped behind him, his keen eyes overseeing the work from a distance. Already he was itching to return to the sea. Fortunately the repairs were fairly minor, considering they had to dock for them. A new mast was being hauled into place as he watched, and he thanked god over again that the damage sustained was not severe enough for extensive repairs, or worst of all, being decommissioned. Four days only and they would be back at sea. The men were working from the break of dawn to the sun's set, and doing a damn fine job of it.

Mr. Bracegirdle stood at his shoulder. He could see the tight lines of anxiety in the Captain's face, the way his eyes darted from worker to worker, the way his shoulders were pulled back as though to restrain himself from moving forward and taking the ship back to sea. "Won't be long now, sir. Might even finish ahead of schedule."

"I don't mind telling you, Mr. Bracegirdle," Pellew said in a low voice, "if there were a way to persuade God to place his finger on that vessel and wish it well, I would have it done so immediately, and with no thoughts of further consequences."

"As in who you'd sell your soul to, sir?"

Pellew allowed a hint of amusement to touch his face. He sighed slightly, and the seriousness returned. "I must attend a dinner tonight at the Admiralty. Last thing I want to do."

"You can catch up on all the seafaring news, sir."

"I want to _be_ the seafaring news, dammit, not standing here gawking at a ship I should be on." He turned his head, regretfully realizing his sharp tone. Mr. Bracegirdle was the closet he allowed to having a friend, and did not deserve his lashing. "My apologies. I am sure you find the tedium as unbearable as I."

"I do wish to return to sea, but I have found various things with which to occupy my time. Might I suggest you do the same?" The request was offered lightly, and Bracegirdle made it a point not to look at the Captain as he spoke it.

"I must prepare for this damned dinner. I'm really not in the mood." Pellew hesitated, his lips parted as a thought forced its way through his bad temper. He faced Bracegirdle. "I trust you will inform me of any mishaps, no matter how small or insignificant?"

Bracegirdle smiled inwardly at the plea for escape. For such an imposing figure, Captain Pellew really hated anything to do with the Admiralty or desks or the like. He was a man of action, born to lead. Both knew that soon, all too soon, he would find himself landlocked in a position that gave him plenty of authority, which was a good thing, but no mobility. Hopefully that day would be plenty far off. "I will, sir. Any time in particular?"

"Give me the better side of an hour. That is about all I can stand considering the company. If it were Mears or Capstain I could bear it. But it is Witherspoon, and Witherspoon I make ill use of."

"What of the others?"

"Strangers to me. I know the names only, but not the faces."

"Surely you can find it in you to be courteous to one. You may even find reason to like them."

"You sound like a father teaching his son the finer arts of how to act in society," Pellew groused. "Very well. But I do expect you to deliver your report."

"Of course, sir."

They continued to watch the repairs. The ship bore it well, sitting majestically amongst the smaller forms of frigates and sloops. She looked well-rested and ready, eager even. She swayed impatiently as the waves broke upon the shore underneath the piers and sloshed against her hull. Captain Pellew, much later in his cabin with Bracegirdle, would swear to him that, in that instance when the mast was righted and she looked again like a proper lady of the water, he heard her cry out with a plea to return to the open air and fresh seas, and his soul answered her. Such was the relationship between a man and his ship. Besides, they had a score to settle with King Triton.

But for now, Pellew could only glance at his pocket watch and curse. He excused himself from his friend's company to prepare for his wretched evening assignment.

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The day had been devilishly harsh. Horatio all but collapsed into his hammock, aware that poor Archie had stumbled into his own with such ineptitude that he nearly pitched over. The man had been run in circles, and Horatio, to be sure, was rather ill at the treatment. He passed it off as a crew's desperation, but the truth be told, it seemed to pass more as cruelty. Never had he seen an injured man required to do more, and it was always when Horatio was busy with another seemingly impossible task, so he could not assist. One handed, he had hauled in and coiled the heavy rope that lay over the deck. He swabbed the entire deck by anchoring the flimsy mop firmly underneath his arm. He even checked the deck for sealant. Once those duties were completed there was a brief, and late, lunch, though admittedly much better fare than the young men were used to having, and then a return to more arduous duties. Horatio spent most of his time going from top deck to bottom, hoisting large barrels of supplies and taking stock of damages left to be repaired. Horatio lost sight of his friend for the remainder of the afternoon, and assumed he was finally able to rest. It wasn't until Archie staggered below that he realized Archie had indeed worked through. "It was my fault, really," he offered in reply to the distaste on Horatio's face, "I had a rest, but I grew weary of just shouting orders," he smiled tiredly, "so I asked to be put to work. And may I say they were all too happy to oblige me."

Supper passed quietly, and the Captain did not join them. They ate in exhausted silence. Horatio took the watch after his meal, and fumed silently as Archie scrambled on the deck below. Archie took the following watch. Horatio hovered in the background, tending to minor considerations, and one major one in the form of an exhausted Acting Lieutenant. They were then dismissed to their hammocks.

Something about the whole situation just did not feel right, but Horatio couldn't put his finger on it, any more than he could use it to tap the moon in the sky. And as he lay watching his friend sleep through his own fading vision, he had the awful feeling that it would not get any better. Oh, to be back on the _Indie_!

But Captain Rapier had watched with a keen eye, and was fairly impressed. His new arrivals had completed the tasks set before them, and then some. There was no doubt in his mind that both were exceptional naval officers, even the one with the injury, Kennseth? Kinney? No matter. Ah, yes, Kennedy. Hornblower's shadow, he had heard one sailor comment on the _Indie_. He had been confused by the remark, until observing the men working together. But it seemed the other way round, instead of Kennedy looking to Hornblower, Hornblower seemed to be looking after Kennedy. So to whom did whose shadow belong, exactly? Not that it mattered.

His thoughts returned to the disturbing matter at hand. A large map lay behind him on the table, half covered with papers filled with scrawls and figures. He had become annoyed with his task and flung it aside as one pressing fact interfered with his concentration. He was now standing and looking out his portal, his hands clenched behind him, his breath joining the mist in the cold air. The waves that slapped the sides of the ship sounded as hollow as his thoughts. He was absolutely certain of the date, and yet his second had just informed his that he was mistaken. He was mistaken? He was never mistaken, his memory was sharp as a tack, spry as those lads he had worked mercilessly to test their mettle. And yet, when recovering his own documents from his antiquated sea chest, he found that he had, in fact, been mistaken. His wife had been dead seven years since, but not in October as he had thought. She had died during the month of June. Why had he been so certain it was October?

Truth be told it was a minor thing, yet minor things had ways of building into piles of trouble. His own wife, his poor wife, so sick all those months and never complaining, not until the end when she insisted his presence was keeping her tethered to this world. "As you love me, my dearest, allow me my freedom. I am weary, and I shall miss you so. . ." and his stubbornness still would not allow it. He clung on to the bitter end. Never let it be said that Captain Rapier allowed his wife to pass on, no, he battled it every step of the way.

June? October, surely.

There would be snow early this year. He could feel it.

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The morning winds tried to slice the top layer of skin from their cheeks. Pink and chapped, the sailors kept work on repairs as they headed towards dock. Hands swelled and bled, lips split without the proper balm to soften them against the harsh air. The turn northward had run them into a blast that had precipitated the storms of days past, and every man was wondering which was worse, enduring the wrath of more storms, or the consequences thereafter.

Borders elbowed Morgan as the two newer members came to deck, each wrapped in their dark cloaks, standing with their chins up and surveying the area. "Look at them," he muttered, "they still act as though they own the place. Noses all up in the air, think they rule the roost."

"I'd still my tongue, mister," Morgan said quietly, "them's Pellew's men, and he has almost as much a reputation as our good Cap'n. Not like you ain't proud when people come aboard to gawk at him."

"That's the thing, Morgan. Look at 'em. They ain't gawking, or even looking." Borders raised his chin at Horatio. "That's the one, right there, you know, the one that Cap'n was talking about. Too smart for his years, and agile as a rat. Dunno why he keeps that friend of his nearby, suppose he's good for somethin'."

"Got a pretty face on him, if nothing else," Morgan said, and the two men laughed. This laughter caught Horatio's attention, and he walked over with Archie close behind.

"Gentlemen." Hornblower gave the appropriate greeting, as did Kennedy, and the two snapped to attention. "Chilly weather this morning." It was also very dark. Thick clouds hung over head, concealing the sun, and joining the color of the sea and sky.

"Aye, it is at that." Morgan rose to a nearly and astonishing head height taller than Hornblower, and peered down at him. To his pleasure, the young man's eyes grew slightly wider, but he held his tongue. "And what is your business this fine day, sirs?"

"I merely thought to wish you a good morning, if morning this is." Hornblower offered a slight smile. "Also, I would enquire as to what duties remain, and to the condition of the Captain, as he has not spoken with us since our first meal here yesterday." The tone was almost presumptuous. Borders straightened his back a little. So, this young man was offended that the Captain had neglected to treat him as an honored guest. Well, well.

"We're about finished, sir. We were well started before your arrival." He dared a half step closer. "Truth is, sirs, we don't rightly know why you're here."

"I understand your reluctance to accept the services of two men who are not of your ship." Hornblower stole a glance at Kennedy, who stood stiffly at his shoulder. "But we were told you were very lacking in men, and had extensive damage. There was quite a mess yesterday, but," Horatio made a show of surveying the surrounding deck area, "I do believe most of it has been dealt with accordingly."

"It has been dealt with, as you see," Morgan said. "As to the Cap'n's further orders, I suggest you knock on his cabin door very carefully. He gets in a mood when in a fright, and you'd not want to be on the receiving end of that."

"I see." Hornblower considered this news, turning once again to Kennedy, who merely raised his eyebrows. "Thank you gentlemen." He touched his hat and was off.

Borders watched them leave, and shook his head. "Pompous gits," he muttered.

Archie had his own misguided feelings about the matter. "After all we did yesterday," he fumed, "this is how we are treated? I tell you Horatio, I worked alongside that big guy, and he did nothing but watch me as though I were a boy green at the gills! We are here to help, why do they fight it so?"

"They are able men, Archie, you saw them. That man you are referring to has to be twice the size of Styles, and he's the largest man I've seen in a good while. He has every right to be put out by the likes of us ordering him around, when we have not gained his respect."

"I'd of thought our efforts in helping to put this ship back together would garnish respect, but I suppose that was foolish of me. Of course things can not be that simple. What was I thinking?" They had reached the captain's room, and Horatio signaled for Archie to still his tongue.

Archie obeyed and cautiously rapped at the door. "Captain Rapier, sir? It's Lieutenants Kennedy and Hornblower, sir." He waited, his head bowed, then looked behind his shoulder at Horatio. The taller man merely shrugged, and tried himself.

"Captain Rapier? May we have an audience with you, sir?" There was no answer.

"Should we just enter?" Archie asked.

"I'm not sure the captain would appreciate that, Mr. Kennedy."

"But what if something is wrong?"

Of course the thought had occurred to Horatio. He also felt extreme reluctance toward rushing in where angels feared to tread, though curiously enough that had never been a problem for him before. He again raised a fist to knock, when a voice emerged from the shadows behind them.

"Not now," it whispered in the dim light, "he's sleeping off drink. Allow him rest, is there anything I may do to assist you?"

Horatio peered into the dimness. "Who are you?"

A fresh face slowly unfolded from the shadows, carrying a lamp. "Acting Lieutenant Giles Goddwyn, at your service."

"Acting Lieutenant?" Horatio stared at the smaller man in amazement. Another officer? "Pardon my saying so, but where the devil have you been?"

"Holed up with the Captain, sir, for most of yesterday. I apologize for not making my presence known to you sooner."

"I see. Well, I am Lieutenant Hornblower, and this is Acting Lieutenant Kennedy." He pointed to the door as Goddwyn's comment sunk in past the mild shock. "What do you mean he's sleeping off drink?"

Goddwyn's black eyes reflected the orange light, giving an eerie sense of mystery to the occasion. "Come, I'll explain. This isn't the place for this manner of discussion." He led the two men to a smaller room towards the back of the ship. "We must speak very softly, sirs, a ship like this holds no secrets, and is small enough for the rats to hear."

"What secrets?" Archie whispered.

Goddwyn glanced about, then leaned in. "I watched the two of you yesterday. I admire the determination you carried, especially you, Lt. Kennedy. Does your arm trouble you much?"

The bold sincerity flattered Archie. "It is healing, thank you, Mr. Goddwyn, it should be fine in another day or two, provided this blasted cold lets up. But do continue."

"May I speak candidly?"

"Under the circumstances."

"I have heard of your ship, and of your Captain. You are currently the envy of every sailor in the fleet." Dark eyes sought Horatio's. "You are known to us, sir, and respected by every one of the younger sailors, and you are gaining the respect of those above. I frequently take dinner with Captain Rapier and the Admiralty, and I hear what they say. They are keeping an eye on you."

"Indeed?" Horatio wasn't sure what to say, so he gave a bashful nod, to Archie's amusement.

"There isn't much Horatio can't do, expect form a comment in the wake of a compliment," Archie quipped.

"It's all very true, sir. And you, Mr. Kennedy, you are spoken of highly as well. Granted, it is usually in Mr. Hornblower's company."

"Mr. Kennedy is a man of his own," Hornblower said firmly. "But what news? Why have you brought us to the bowels of your ship?"

Goddwyn hesitated, then hazzarded a smile. "Irrational concerns, I assure you, but concerns nonetheless. I thought I would give voice to them to men who are not biased in the situation." He took a breath and continued. "We are all aware of how sea travel can affect one's judgement, especially when one has not been to land in several years, other than to pick up supplies. Captain Rapier has been constant on the seas for nearly five years now, running the same ship, the same men. This place is more a home than most, and for much of his crew it is the only home they have known."

"The Captain has a reputation as a generous man, to be sure." '_Despite his tongue'_, Horatio thought, but did not add.

"When he started as a sailor, he was laughed at, because he joined ship so late in years. Soon he was reckoned the bravest man in the fleet. He volunteered himself for tasks that would make others quiver, and without a second thought. And his mind, gentlemen, they say his mind was so quick he skipped the books for mathematical equations because he had a faster method of computation."

"Fanciful, surely," Archie said.

"I promise you, Mr. Kennedy, I am sturdy in my sums, yet he always bested me with neither chalk nor compass to hand. The man is a genius."

"Well I admit, some if this does sound familiar." Archie shot a keen look at Horatio.

"Oh, hold your tongue, Archie," Horatio muttered, and glared at his friend's smile. "Judging from what you are telling us," he turned to Goddwyn, "I assume the Captain feels his faculties declining?"

"He can not think, Mr. Hornblower. He can not concentrate." Goddwyn gave a distressed sigh. "The matter has worsened over the past year, and I have seen him attempt some acts that border on. . ." he winced, unwilling to continue.

"Mr. Goddwyn, has he ever put the men in danger?"

Goddwyn had set the lantern on a barrel. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, threading his fingers together and studying them. His hesitation showed his reluctance to betray his superior, and as a result, had answered Horatio's question before speaking. "He has. More than once, and for folly."

"But why?" Archie asked.

Giles Goddwyn sat back. "Gentlemen, a genius he is, but it does not take one to realize that there comes a time when age must take control of all reason. Captain Rapier is sixty-nine. He should be considering a desk or land based job, not gallivanting about the open seas as though he were still firm in his thirties."

There was no way the man that had told those horribly fantastic stories, who created more energy in a room than a lightning storm, could be that aged and ready for retirement. "You underestimate him, I'm sure," Horatio spoke.

"No, I serve under him, Mr. Hornblower. I know what I see."

"What you see, yes, but what are you _saying_, Mr. Goddwyn?" Kennedy asked sternly, and clamped his lips shut as he noticed the volume with which he asked the question.

"I'm saying," Goddwyn leaned in, "watch yourselves. Something is amiss, and I do not like it a bit."

Horatio's brows drew together in puzzlement. Archie looked much the same. They watched together as Goddwyn rose. "I must take my leave now, I have the watch until the Captain wakes." He nodded to the light. "I'll leave that behind for you, I'll not need it on the way out. With any luck the sun will break through this gloom. Good day."

Archie watched him go, and waited until his presence vanished from the area before speaking. "I have to admit, Horatio, I don't like it either."

"I believe the two of you are letting your imaginations run with you."

"You've seen the man!" Archie exclaimed as quietly as he could, "You've heard his stories! How many were embellished? All, I wager." He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "I've heard he fancies one more quest, a final victory that will secure his place in history. A man of his age would be desperate enough to do almost anything for a bit of immortality."

"You speak boldly for someone who has been on his ship for little more than a day."

"I speak as someone who knows, Horatio. This man wants something more to return to, rather than the docks for repairs." He glanced around as though the shadows were listening and moved to sit right beside his friend. He lowered his head to Horatio's. "I did not tell you, because I was not certain," he continued in a low voice, "but while I was on deck, I noticed the rigging. Those ropes that were cleared, did you take notice of their condition?"

"They were weighted with water." Horatio responded simply.

"Yes, but did you see where it came loose?"

Horatio shook his head. "I did not look. What of it?"

"Ropes that are loosed by cannon fire show the signs. These showed none, so far as I could tell. No powder, no scorching, nor are they unevenly frayed."

"You've had time to examine them, then."

Archie drew back in bewilderment. "Horatio, why are you so quick to disbelieve me?"

"Archie," Horatio checked himself and lowered his voice, "If you are saying what I think. . ."

"Come with me. Have a look at these ropes, and then you can draw your own conclusions." He stood and waited for Horatio to follow.

The ropes were piled in a nearby room. Horatio crouched down, lifting the coils slowly and examining them while preventing Archie from doing the same. He said nothing, but his expression was grim.

"You see?" Archie said softly. "No powder. No frays, and look at the color. These are fairly new, from when the ship was under repair for her own mast. Had half the sails torn off in that battle three months past, do you remember hearing about that? The repairs were made on the water, Captain Rapier refused to dock. He wanted to go after the enemy, and was actually in pursuit whilst under repairs. Had the rope freighted to her off the Rose Marie."

"Yes, I remember the Admiralty was not happy about that, according to Captain Pellew," Horatio commented.

"These particular ropes have not seen battle, Horatio. Nor were they damaged in a storm. Those sails did not tear loose." He bent down and pointed. "See here?"

Horatio raised the end of the rope to his eyes and studied it. A troubled shadow crept along his face as the ship turned. "This has been cut."

Archie nodded. "It has all been cut. Deliberately."

"But why?"

Archie gave a one-shouldered shrug. "A reason to get us on board? Captain Rapier did say he wished to serve with you for a bit."

"That is absurd. Sabotaging one's ship is too extravagant way of going about it!"

Archie winced at his friend's volume and put his hand on Horatio's shoulder, making it a point to lower his own voice. "Think of whom we speak. Besides, don't you remember? He hinted at it, and Captain Pellew would not give you leave. Now, my question is why? Why does Rapier want you here so badly?"

But Horatio's attention had been diverted. "My question is, why is this ship still turning." He stood. The sun was indeed fighting the gloom, and now could be seen through the opposite window. "Someone _has_ turned the ship. We're going back the way we came, Archie. We aren't going to England." His expression grew more serious. "We're headed back to the African Coast."


	4. Chapter 4

Pellew never cared for Rear Admiral Jameson. He was pompous, irritating, and generally larger than life. Everything about him was a caricature, from his overly long nose to his ever-shifting eyes. His large mouth housed vulgar phrases when put off; his teeth were too white. His body was thick, yet pliant, and he moved with the energy of a nest of wasps.

Pellew stood at attention, watching the Rear Admiral pace about Pellew's small office in agitated circles. Even those circles buzzed with his energy, carved into the deck floor. His presence would remain long after he left. "Am I to understand," he said in a high tone, "that you have dismissed two of your men to this crew of limeheads?"

The Rear Admiral had been present at the dinner on land whist the _Indie_ was under repairs. Pellew had managed to tolerate him then. It was not so easy now, especially since the news of the transfer of his lieutenants. "Captain Rapier requested assistance. Our ship was nearby, and I saw no harm in the offering."

Rear Admiral Jameson spun, his head cocked so to the side that his large hat teetered. "No harm? No HARM? Do you realize what this man has done, what he has said?"

"I only know what the Navy sees fit to tell me, and we both know how limited that knowledge can be, sir!" Pellew said, with as much respect as his bulleted response would allow. He drew his shoulders back, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, and tried not to allow worry to seep into his bones. What had Rapier done?

Jameson regarded him closely. "Yes," he said slowly, "yes, well, I suppose you can't know everything. I am certain they had just cause in keeping the information from you."

"What information, sir?" The forcefulness of Pellew's tone made the question a demand.

But the Rear Admiral waved it away. "Never mind. We are here, and we have to find this ship. You do have the co-ordinates that you reported earlier, when you erroneously allowed your men passage?"

Pellew bristled. "Provided he is still on the same course, he should actually dock England within two days time."

"Good, good. We will follow this course, and make certain he docks." Rear Admiral Jameson peered into a glass door covering Pellew's stash of spirits. He turned. "Do you mind? No, no, of course not." He opened the door and pulled out the carafe.

Pellew gritted his teeth and said nothing.

Jameson poured himself a rather hefty amount without offering any to Pellew. He raised the glass. "Your health, sir," and downed it in two gulps. "Aaaagh-yes sir. That's what it takes to get men going." He poured another, then turned. "You do not partake?"

"No, sir. . .I do not."

"Oh. Very well." Jameson muttered something more underneath his breath and replaced the spirit. "Tell me about these two you sent aboard. Good men?"

"You know one of them, by name at least. Lt. Horatio Hornblower."

"Hornblower? You sent Hornblower?" Jameson nearly dropped his drink. "Are you daft, man? He's your best, you bastard! Granted he has the habit of speaking candidly, which should do him no harm, but still!" It was apparent to Pellew that not much was required in the way of drink to loose the man's tongue.

"He is one of my best, which is why I sent him aboard."

"He can keep his head in battle, that much can be said." He looked up as Murphy walked in. "Well man? What news?"

"Sir, we just got reports from the _Rouseau_ and the _Barringer_. The _Rouseau _is at the co ordinates where the _Clementine_ should be."

"Should be?"the Rear Admiral emphasized, and cast a look at Pellew that could only be described as smug.

"Aye. The _Barringer_ has caught sight of her five degrees south of the last reported location."

"South?" Jameson rounded on Pellew. "I thought you said she was returning to England!"

"I assure you sir, I was led to believe so." Pellew was trying to hide his shock, and his sudden misgivings.

"You were obviously wrongly led, sir!" Jameson turned to Murphy. "Get the last known co ordinates. Bloody boat could be headed to Cape Town for all we know."

"Aye sir!" Murphy hurried out, leaving Jameson to fume at Pellew.

"I suppose it was a good decision then, putting Hornblower on board, do you not agree?" Jameson asked sarcastically. He set his glass down with a heavy thump. "I must inform the Admiralty, they are not going to like this a bit. Expect to hear from me." The Rear Admiral raised his chin.

"Aye, sir." Pellew gave the appropriate salute. Jameson grunted and took his leave.

Pellew looked at his now empty bottle of spirits and smashed it against the wall.

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Goddwyn leaned over the rail of the quarterdeck, his dark brown hair flapping into his eyes. He brushed it back in agitation, his eyes fixed firmly on the sight below him. Try as he might, he could not make out the Captain's words, even the gestures were subdued and made little sense to his mind. He could have been describing the best way to baste a foul, or caress a woman, or coil a rope. It was all the same from his vantage. The Captain held himself proudly, which wasn't unusual. But he was out without his coat. His white shirt caught the light like a sun onto self, and his state of casualness alarmed Goddwyn. Either the man sought little care since recent events as to his physical state, or something untoward had happened. He had noticed the change in direction, and knew the Captain had been talking to Bushnell quite a bit over the last hour. But he was never in a convenient place to hear what was going on, and for once the Captain was being uncharacteristically tight-lipped.

He heard steps behind him, and pulled back. It was Hornblower. Goddwyn's shoulders relaxed slightly. Here was a man of his own years, a fair man to be sure, and with any luck, a sound ear. He had a reasonable sense about him. Those dark, sharp eyes met his own, and it occurred to Goddwyn that Hornblower was not a man he would like to meet in battle. He had a serious face, tight expression, and especially dangerous eyes. . .he would make a name for himself, that was a certainty. Goddwyn could see recognition flutter across Hornblower's face, and the tense features eased into familiarity. This pleased Goddwyn, for it was a softer expression that he had seen turned only toward his friend Kennedy, the whole time they had been on the ship. So this Hornblower trusted him, then. "Good day to you, sir." Goddwyn's greeting was heartfelt in gesture. Hornblower, however, noticed the lie within.

"What brings you here, that you peer over the railing like a cat eying a mouse?" Horatio walked forward, his hands clasped tightly behind him, and ventured a look. The Captain remained below, his voice muted.

"I merely noticed that our good Captain has neglected his coat, and I wondered if I should fetch it for him."

"Quite a decision, apparently, as you've stood here pondering it for some time." Goddwyn stiffened, but Hornblower's expression was more of curiosity than anything.

"I am. . .also wondering why we've changed course. No one seems to have news."

"I am certain we will hear all in the Captain's own good time. Something strikes me about him, that he likes to keep a person guessing."

"Aye, that he does. Plenty of occasions have arisen when our good Captain has chosen to keep strategy to himself, in order to promote a sense of suspense amongst the men."

"But how does he command like this? How does he battle?" Horatio's brows drew in a tight line. He turned to his companion and rested his elbow comfortably on the rail.

"I don't know." A small laughed escaped him. "But I've seen enough miracles to know that, whatever he does, it invariably works."

"He must have a wealth of knowledge." Hornblower shook his head, his gaze overlooking the far reaches of the deck and the sea beyond. "Why does he command such a small craft? I've always pictured him on a larger vessel."

"He prefers the smaller ships. Says it promotes a sense of family." Goddwyn mirrored Horatio's position. "What about your ship, sir? Is it too large to promote a sense of family?"

Horatio laughed outright at this. "Lord no, man. We practically sleep underneath each other. Only recently did Mr. Kennedy and I manage to secure a cabin to ourselves, but even then there are just too many men aboard for any real privacy. It's nothing but knees and elbows."

"But you get along?"

Horatio considered this with a characteristic pursing of the lips that Goddwyn would come to recognize. "Mostly. Some of the sailors have it out from time to time, but that's mostly being stuck idle on the ship. Give them something to do and they are happy men."

"You and Mr. Kennedy then, you've served together for a while?" He wished his voice hadn't sounded so wistful.

Horatio sent a puzzled smile in his direction. "Well, yes, several years." He shifted. "Do you have any friends on board, Goddwyn?"

"Not as such. I mean, there was Rumbles, but he was lost overboard. We played cards, but didn't talk. Boldshore. Maypin. All gone."

"I am sorry."

"In so far as it was a loss of good men, so am I. Personal loss," he shrugged, "not as much."

"You have no one here to confide in?"

"I fear I rely on my own resources. In case you had not noticed, Captain Rapier keeps older sailors, most of which have been with him longer than I've held breath within me. It was a fluke I arrived, and I've never left."

"Then there must be something here you enjoy."

"I enjoy the looks on the ladies' faces when they find which ship I sail." Goddwyn grinned. "I enjoy the reputation, and the hope that after she docks I'll be commissioned on any ship I please. Maybe even the _Indefatigable_." He cast a glance towards Horatio.

"Speaking for myself, I would be pleased to have you, you seem a likable enough fellow." Horatio glanced down again. He could see Kennedy below, talking to one of the Lieutenants before disappearing below the hold. "You said this ship was due to dock. Do you mean to be decommissioned?"

"Aye. She has taken her last journey and was headed inland when set upon by that storm."

Horatio's face was troubled. He straightened and took his new friend by the arm, leading him from the rail. "Goddwyn, I assume you trust me with what information you have lain out in the open. Might I trust you in the same manner?"

"Of course."

"Was there a battle before the storm hit? Did you lose most of your men?"

Goddwyn looked confused. "We had a run-in with a ship, aye, but there was no battle. Some of our men went aboard. The Captain never explained why, he just called it 'strategic tactics.' The storm did rid us of plenty of men, sir, but there was no battle." He sought to catch Horatio's eye, which suddenly strayed to the deck. "May I ask why?"

"I will tell you, in time. First I must find Mr. Kennedy." He hesitated, considering their conversation. He knew what it was like to be friendless, and Goddwyn, with his amiable attitude, was as worthy of companionship as any man he'd seen. "Would you meet with us tonight? I think you and Mr. Kennedy would get on fine. We'll find a time between watches, I have a feeling there will be a lot to discuss."

Goddwyn practically glowed. "Of course, Mr. Hornblower! It would be my honor." He bowed deep, in a manner befitting Kennedy's impish moods.

Horatio shook his head, hiding his grin. _Lord help me, two of them_, _and_ _on one ship. I must fear for my sanity!_

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"Horatio, surely you misheard."

"Archie, how can one misinterpret that statement? There was no battle."

Archie lay back in his hammock, one arm crossing his face, hiding his expression. He heaved a sigh, and his body sagged with defeat. "What now, then?" he asked plainly. "We are obviously here under false pretenses."

"We were guided here by false pretenses," Horatio corrected, "we are here of our own free will."

"Free will won't get us out of this, I'm afraid. At the moment that is a meaningless phrase set to send hope to the minds of the feeble."

Horatio stared. "Such a mood, Archie! What on earth is the matter?"

Archie flung his arm to the side, his gaze pinned to the boards above him. "I do not know."

"You mean you will not say."

Vivid eyes met his, the expression heightened by a sense of urgency. "I wish to god I could." He turned away, and Horatio was suddenly reminded of the time in the cell in Spain, when Archie turned his back to him at that time when his friend was needed the most. The action made him stand and grab his friend by his good shoulder, forcing Archie to face him. "Archie, please. I will not think any less of you. Let me hear what you have to say." His own eyes were as intense, and Archie steadied himself, then rose to a sitting position. Horatio released his grip, but did not move away.

"I - I feel like we currently serve a madman, Horatio. And yet he has done nothing to merit that remark, but. . .it's his face. His eyes. Have you ever seen such an expression? It's as if the angels themselves have fallen on his graces, and he believes he is to take their charge."

"You think him invincible?"

"I believe he does, yes. I-I was talking to one of the Lieutenants." He took a breath, then looked squarely at Horatio. "I was asking about the change in direction, since no one saw fit to inform us. He vaguely mentioned our destination, and I looked it up discretely on the map in the ready room. Do you realize how far from England we are traveling?"

"This isn't a side trip, then."

"This is an agenda. And I think we should ask him, once and for all, what his intentions are."

Horatio nodded and looked down at his hands. "There is something else, Archie. I was talking with Acting Lt. Goddwyn. We know the Captain asked for us, meaning that for some reason, we specifically are wanted on board. But Goddwyn also said this ship was to be decommissioned. She was returning to England for that purpose."

"Oh, god." Archie swung his legs over, leaning towards his friend. "He's stolen the ship. He's stolen the ship with us on it."

"He's reversed his course," Horatio rephrased, "for some unknown port far from England. He has also unloaded half his men onto another frigate."

"So. . .no war, so obviously no casualties, but the storm? I assume it did not take as many lives as we thought?"

"This ship is as deserted as it is because the Captain wished it so. Probably to provide evidence for his tall tales used to get us on board."

Archie shook his head. "Horatio, what the devil is going on?"

Horatio opened his mouth to speak, and turned at the knock on his door. He and Kennedy exchanged a quick glance before Horatio stood. "Yes?"

"Might I enter, sir?" The voice was rough and not familiar.

"Yes, please."

The door opened to reveal a burly man. "The Cap'n wishes to see you in his quarters, gentlemen." His scowl did not match the eloquence of his words.

"Yes, thank you." Horatio sought the man's face for familiarity, and found it. He had spoken to him before, and with his friend, about the repairs. "And you are?"

"Of no consequence."

Horatio scoffed mildly. "But surely everyone is of some consequence."

"If you say so, sir." The man said no more and stepped aside, waiting for Horatio to pass. Horatio did so, keeping a level eye on the new arrival. Archie stood and picked up his jacket, ready to pass when the burly man stopped him by gripping his elbow. "Your arm, sir," he asked, eyeing the sling and lacking in all sincerity, "has it mended?"

"Nearly, yes, thank you." Archie's wary gaze landed on the hand that was now on his good arm. Horatio had paused just outside, watchful eyes taking in the scene.

"At's good, sir." The formality dropped, and the burly man edged closer. "Would hate to see it worried. Many's a man that lost his rig due to a bum arm."

"Yes, thank you for your concern. I assure you, it's fine." He started out, but wasn't released.

"My friend's a good doc. Fix you right up, all spiffy." Yellowed teeth accentuated his menacing grin.

Archie was starting to look angry, and Horatio decided now was a good time to intervene. "You did say the Captain was expecting us."

"Aye, I did."

"Then shouldn't we take our leave?" He gently insinuated himself between Archie and the man, forcing a release on his hold. "We would hate to have to explain why we were detained." His eyes flashed.

"Was merely offering assistance, no harm in that." The man backed away. "I'll be watching you, Mr. Kennedy sir, make certain that arm of yours don't do you in or nothing." He grinned once more and walked off.

"He speaks as though his act were rehearsed," Kennedy muttered. "You noticed how his manner changed after his message was delivered?"

Horatio released his breath and turned to his friend. Archie was staring after the man, his face expressionless. "Let's be off then. The sooner we can get an explanation, the sooner we can get the hell off this damn ship."

"Gentlemen, please be seated. I'll have some refreshment shortly, perhaps a light snack?" Captain Rapier's manner was extraordinarily courteous. Horatio and Archie were both taken aback, and sat without a sound.

The Captain poured brandy into small crystal goblets. "I have brought you here, because I suffer a slight dilemma. I have received word of an attack on one of our ships in port at Layburn, on the South African coast. This is not to go unrecognized. It is the second of our vessels to have been attacked, and yet our good King sees fit to do nothing. Not only that, but there is word of attacks on our colonies by those damned heathen tribes who claim to own the land. By god, to spear one myself! I'd show them who their true god is, and that he rides a chariot of lumber on the open seas. No one crosses the British, lads, we are the strongest and most superior fighting force in the world, and specialists on water. Now, we must bring that tactic to land, and drive these heathens back before they burn our British settlements and our cargo."

Horatio studied his goblet, while deciding what best to say. "We have already altered course then, sir?"

"We have, and I am certain you noticed. I did not inform you of our orders. . ."

"Orders, sir?"

". . .because I was uncertain as to whether you should accompany us. I had thought to send you back to the _Indie_. But truth is, Lt. Hornblower," he leaned forwards over Horatio's shoulder, "I need you." Steeled eyes studied the young man for a moment, and he sat heavily in his chair; it creaked in response. "I am an old man, as you can see. My mind. . . It is nothing severe, I assure you, I can command a ship as well as any other, but I need to_ command_. I can not be bothered with these computations and figures as you can. I need you, Hornblower. I've lost many men, I need for you to be my strategist." He eyed Kennedy. "To be truthful, lad, you aren't even supposed to be here. I only wanted Hornblower. However, I have heard that your aim and technique with weaponry is not to be matched this side of the seas. You will deliver the plans that our Lt. Hornblower here conceives, and you will put it into action. We will reach the coast in five days, weather permitting." He hadn't moved, only to dart his keen gaze from one young man to the other. His immobile stature showed the matter to be settled. "Now, what questions have you?"

Hornblower swallowed in order to find his voice. "The other ships, sir, when will they arrive?"

"There are no other ships. We attack alone."

"What about reinforcements on land?"

"Ruins the element of surprise. I did offload half of my crew onto another ship, which shall remain unnamed, in case we should need them." He noticed Kennedy's bewilderment. "You have a question, Mr. Kennedy?"

"You mean as to the sanity of this mission, sir?" Kennedy asked lightly. He deliberately avoided Hornblower's stern glance.

"I understand your reservations, _Acting_ Lieutenant."

"Reservations? With respect, sir, do you intend to take on the entire coast with this one ship? And, again with respect, even the least of our current line out-guns us. From what I can see we have neither the weaponry nor men for such a grandiose task."

"Such negativity will have you killed, man!"

"I doubt very much that negativity will have anything to do with it!"

Rapier leaned forward. "You must trust me. I have been through battles that your good Captain Pellew hasn't had the fortune to dream of. And each time I have emerged victorious. Why?" He leaned in further, and punctuated his remark with a jab of his finger on the table, "Because I am unconventional. I perform the unexpected. As we pull to port, who will believe we will attack? No one. Because we are not an armada, we are not even the most powerful ship. The element of surprise, gentlemen. They will not even have time to prepare, and by then, we will have the advantage."

"Aye, sir," Kennedy retorted, "by being dead, thereby missing the havoc we cause!"

Rapier's eyes drew tight in displeasure. "I don't care much for your tone, young sir. Perhaps it is because your arm pains you, should I send you below for the appropriate remedy?"

"That won't be necessary, Captain Rapier, sir." Horatio shot Archie a look that plainly said, 'for god sake's shut up!'. "He merely expresses his misgivings in a rather. . .emotional. . .way."

"Indeed," Kennedy muttered, then offered a smile. "I apologize for any unwarranted comments. My father always said my tongue was hinged in the middle."

This made the Captain laugh, but then, little could be done when Archie put on the charm. And he was at the moment; his eyes glittered, his cheeks were flushed. It was a cherubic expression, but Horatio knew that the eyes were glittering with checked anger, and his flush confirmed it.

"That is enough talk for now. I am eager to hear of your exploits, Mr. Hornblower, so let us down our drinks whilst I prepare another, and you can tell me more about yourself."

And inwardly, Horatio groaned.

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The conversation pressed on, mostly Rapier's exploits over shadowing the young men's, exploits which were logical only as vague possibilities, not events. Archie commented that night as they returned to their cabin, "There is no possible way the man has achieved that much, and remained alive at sea. Lord Nelson would pale in his presence!"

"For all we know, he has, but I doubt it was from the degree of his adventures." Horatio sighed and removed his shirt, while noticing Archie removing his sling and struggling slightly with his own. He paused, then walked over and carefully eased his friend's arm from the sleeve and pulled the cloth over his head. "Why don't you try tomorrow without the sling? I saw you trying to use your arm a little earlier today, that has to be a good sign."

Archie nodded. "I shall sleep without it, and see how it feels. Perhaps I can be rid of this vile thing." He lifted the sling with two fingers and tossed it into the corner. His arm was held stiffly, and he winced as he tried to move it.

Horatio studied the bruising. "It's looking better, for what that's worth." He placed his hand on the shoulder joint and squeezed every so slightly, testing the depth of the pain, carefully increasing the pressure until Archie pulled away. He nodded. "You should be fine, but no lifting anything."

"No worries." Archie smiled and turned to lay back on his hammock. He pulled a small book from underneath him and held it to his face.

Horatio smiled and lay back, his hands tucked behind his head. "Archie."

"Hmm?"

"How far away do you think this other ship is? The one Captain Rapier offloaded half his crew onto?"

"I don't know," Archie half muttered, already taken in by the words before him, "it would depend on how long ago he put them on board. I assume it was before the storms hit, and in that case there's no telling where she'd be."

"Except that she'd have to be going the same route as we, if she is to provide a possible attack in our defense. I'd be willing to bet she's even ahead of us."

Archie set his red volume down. "What's this about?"

"We have to see them at some point." Horatio sat up and swung his legs over. "The trade winds on the chart run a very narrow path along the coast. To stray too far would put the other ship beyond our means. We are picking up speed. Therefore we should catch her long before Layburn, if I am reading the map correctly."

"And what do you plan to do if we should catch them?"

Horatio gestured half-heartedly. "Talk some sense into them, I hope. Send them back with news of the Captain's intentions. They must know. This could be seen as an intended attack, and could further our complications in the war."

"Could be seen as an intended attack? Horatio, this is a deliberate assault!"

"And therefore we should inform the Admiralty. By way of Captain Pellew, if possible. His is still the closest ship, by my reckoning."

"Or we could just send someone in a jolly boat."

Horatio shot a stern look at Archie, then relented at the sincerity on his friend's face. "It does sound a bit far fetched, I suppose."

"Horatio, you're asking a loyal crew to rise up against a Captain that they hold in the highest regard, just because we've come aboard and said so. And we've been here how long now? This is a seasoned ship, with a seasoned crew, and all much older than we, save for Goddwyn. Even if we did rendevous, you'd be hard pressed to make them believe you. One last glorious battle with Captain Rapier is one last glorious battle to be remembered by all. You'll never detract them from that."

Archie hated hearing Horatio sigh, and this one sounded heavier than most. "You are right, Archie. It was folly."

"It's a shame to dismiss a good idea, and only because it won't work." The ever-present humor lightened the mood. Horatio reached for his jacket and threw it at Archie as their door opened slightly.

"Mr. Hornblower? It's Goddwyn, sir."

"Goddwyn!" Archie was laughing as he threw off the offending coat, and swung his good arm wide. "Please enter our humble abode! And humble is not an exaggeration!"

Goddwyn smiled nervously and entered, then stood at the door uncomfortably.

"For god sake's man, loosen up." Horatio ignored the indolent snort from Archie, and pulled a sea chest to the center of the room. "You have the cards?"

"I have." Goddwyn eagerly reached into his coat. "Gave up part of my rations to get these for the night."

"Perfect, Mr. Goddwyn. Fortunately, Mr. Kennedy and I have a light snack available for just such an occasion." Horatio pulled out two large loaves of bread, courtesy of the dinner table.

Goddwyn grinned. "And I can match that, and more. I wasn't sure before, but I do believe I can trust you gents." Again he reached deep into the large coat he wore, and pulled out a bottle with three small bone cups.

Horatio swallowed. "Goddwyn, I'm not sure. . ."

"Oh come on, then. Captain's already through a bottle, we've open seas, a clear sky, and no scheduled watches for us until dawn. It is time to eat, drink, and be merry while we are alive to do so!"

"Not shy at all, is he Horatio? That was a ploy he pulled at our door, just to test our mettle. Well, good sir, I shall compensate by testing your own at this game?"

"He really can't play, you know." Horatio said straight-faced. This was rewarded by a smack on the head from Archie. And the cards were dealt.


	5. Chapter 5

Wow, getting a lot of hits! Thanks for reading... been having a little trouble uploading to the site, sorry for the delay... -Kam

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"Captain Pellew, sir." Lt. Thompson waited outside the door for the brusk voice to invite him in. He entered quietly. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Thompson. Your fever is gone and you are well, I take it?"

"It appears so, sir."

"Then you will probably be wanting to return to the _Clementine_."

"With respect, sir, I should like to carry out my time here. Damned inconvenient, that fever. Sir."

"Indeed." Pellew eyed him. "So you wish to remain here?"

"If I may, sir."

Pellew practically bounced on his heels. He clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin. "Why?"

"Sir?"

"Why should you wish to remain?"

"I . . .was hoping to learn how to handle the crew of a larger ship, sir. Seeing as how the Clementine is to be decommissioned."

"I see." Pellew adopted a nonchalant air about him. "Just as well, seeing as how we have no clue as to the whereabouts of your ship."

"I-I beg your pardon, sir?" Thompson looked appropriately confused.

Pellew offered no explanation. "You have served with Captain Rapier a long time, have you not?"

Thompson nodded. "Yes, sir."

"What can you tell me about him?"

Thompson's eyes widened and cast briefly about the room. It was nicer than what Rapier had always allowed himself; he had always held himself as a man beyond material needs. Yet he always seemed to possess the finest apparel, which he claimed was at the insistence of others. "They hold me such in esteem, it would be a shame to let myself appear unseemly," he would say, "and dash their hopes. One must maintain such an image for the good of the people." Thompson had never questioned anything the Captain said. But now, standing across from a man who was quickly becoming a legend in his own right; seeing that stern face, the practiced brow, the years at sea written in lines across an otherwise youngish face, he realized maybe he was in error. This man, Captain Pellew, was everything that Rapier aspired to be. This man was the real thing, though he did not realize it, and Thompson would be the last person to tell him. But seeing the anger overlay the sincerity, and comparing that with the blood-kill look in Rapier's eyes while on the hunt, well, it was an easy decision for him as to who he would trust. This Captain would save lives. Rapier would save his name. "Captain Rapier, sir? Well, he's a good man."

"Yes, yes, we all know that. Tell me more."

"Well, he's . . . kind and fair, and takes good care of his crew."

Pellew leaned forward, his elbows pressing his documents flat to the table top. "Boy, do I look like I just climbed from the sea?"

"N-no sir."

"Therefore not as likely to be wet behind the ears, as you take me for! Tell me something useful!"

"I'm not sure what you are asking, sir." Thompson's worried expression was hard to hide. "Is he in any danger, sir?"

"Seeing as how we know nothing of his location, we have yet to ascertain that."

"Then you ask. . .out of compassion to help?"

"I ask," Pellew replied firmly as he stood and pinned the Lieutenant with a hard gaze, "because he has two of my men aboard, and as of this moment we have no idea where his ship is headed, nor what the Captain's intentions are. Now again I ask; what do you know of Captain Rapier?"

Lt. Thompson collected himself, and looked Pellew in the eyes. "I have served with the good Captain for several years. As to his current actions I can not venture a guess, but I can guarantee that his reasoning is sound and that he acts with good purpose."

"Indeed." Pellew wasn't pleased, not at all. What was it about this Rapier that commanded such respect among his crew? "Thank you, Mr. Thompson. You are dismissed."

And Pellew turned, not even watching the young man leave. His gaze was to the sea, to the grey skies that blended with the waters below, joining to create a slate marked white with clouds and wave tops. He slowly lifted a drink to his lips, and contemplated his next move.

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"A tactical advantage." Rapier savored the words, tasting them like honey. He raised his glass of port to his lips, the flesh of his mouth just curving over the rim. The liquid teased at him, and he allowed a droplet to play along his lip before slowly working into the parted mouth. He leaned back and allowed himself a fuller drink, sighing blissfully as it warmed his throat. "A tactical advantage. One for the history books." His gaze lifted slightly at the knock on his door. "Yes, yes, who is it?"

"Goddwyn, sir."

"Oh, very well. Enter."

The Acting Lieutenant did so, instantly taking in the slightly reddened eyes of his Captain, and his glass of port. "I've just left Mr. Hornblower, sir. Just as you asked, I stayed and engaged them in conversation."

"And?"

"They express concern as to your course of action, I am certain you are aware of their position."

"Of course."

"But there are no designs to sabotage you, nor try to return to their ship. I believe they will cooperate."

"Excellent!" Rapier grabbed his bottle. "A drink."

"I'm afraid I have had more than my share, sir, with that bottle you so gracefully donated."

"Best way to loosen men's tongues is to wet them so that they don't stick." Rapier laughed. "Oh, my boy, this will be a glorious victory! Are the two lads asleep?"

"My tolerance for drink seems to be higher than theirs. They are both passed out in their beds."

"Are they now? Ha! Leave them be, then, they will need their wits about them tomorrow. And I suggest you do the same."

"Aye, sir." Goddwyn grinned and saluted, and obeyed.

Horatio arrived at the captain's door the next morning feeling at though the war played out in his head, rather than on the seas. He raised his fist and was reluctant to knock, but forced himself. His hand fell swiftly and his head cursed him. He was taken aback as the door swung open to reveal a perfectly sober and delighted face, waving him in eagerly, apparently much more used to tolerating drink that Horatio himself was.

Horatio managed a half-smile as he was patted on the back and set into a chair. A large map lay spread out over the table, marked and cross-marked. Horatio pulled toward him slightly, angling it so as to better see the strange markings. "Is this what Goddwyn said I should see, sir?"

"It is. What do you think?"

Horatio winced and did his best to study the document, and the notes that lay alongside it. After several minutes he looked up. "It seems very thorough, sir."

"And yet?"

The corner of Horatio's mouth quirked. "Well, as you suggested, your sums are lacking. This will put you attacking a shoreline that is forty leagues away, and I believe is currently uninhabited by anyone you could care to meet."

"This is not a social event, Hornblower, but I do take your point. Will you correct this for me?"

"If I knew what your goal was, sir, I could rewrite the entire campaign for you."

Rapier laughed heartily. "I make it a rule never to reveal my plans in their entirety. Too often are the subject to change at a moment's notice, and in that route lies confusion." Rapier pulled out a document. "Check these as well, would you?"

Horatio took the sheets slowly, eyeing the captain the whole time. He started making the necessary corrections.

"And these."

Horatio frowned. "Am I a schoolmarm to be grading papers?" he asked.

Rapier smiled. "I just want to make certain my maneuvers are sound."

"It is just as well." Horatio was becoming involved in the equations before him. He studied the map, made adjustments where necessary, and corrected as best he could in light of what little information was given to him.

And it was in the middle of this that Rapier began to talk.

There was no doubt the man had a gift for storytelling. He sat back in his chair, relating events as they may or may not have happened, and Horatio found himself watching the captain rather than the sums on the papers before him. The eyes had a far-away look to them, the body was relaxed. He didn't look a bit like a person on the brink of madness, he certainly did not talk like one, other than a rather half thought through plan. But as Horatio worked and listened, he realized that, if in Raiper's shoes, the plan did make sense, from what little he could ascertain. Well, it would make sense if there were an armada of ships sailing in. But seeing as how Rapier was withholding information, maybe there was an armada. Maybe the would attack first, then the other ships would sail in. Of course he was still stuck on precisely why they were attacking, but again, it wasn't often that the ships crew were priivy to the goings-on of the higher ranks. And seeing as how he wasn't even of the ship, it was hard to tell what was being relayed for his benefit, and what was being withheld or doctored by a master storyteller.

Either way, his sums needed work. And for all Horatio knew, this could very well be a part of the ploy.

But soon the rambling was distracting, and Horatio finally looked up with a faint huff of frustration. Rapier noticed, and silenced himself. "Sir," Horatio said, "with respect, if you expect me to correct these sums, then I must do so in an atmosphere that allows concentration. Your stories are a bit . . . distracting."

Rapier grinned. "Yes, they would be, wouldn't they? I apologize. I will leave you to your work." He sat back, and reminisced silently.

And so Horatio ended up correcting seven pages of sums, with no real clue as to why he was doing so.

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Archie eyed the cannons while moving his arm in very slow, very careful circles. His shoulder was stiff, but mobile. He examined the mountings, the casings, the fact that so far there were only nine working guns, and he was trying not to think on that. Nine. And how long to reload with the limited crew? Indeed, what crew would be available for the guns? Would all of these nine guns fire repeatedly? Some looked in sorry condition indeed. He sighed and was leaning against the barrel, looking through the small portal out to sea, when steady footsteps caught his attention. He turned, expecting to see Horatio, but his eyes beheld a large man, the same man that had fetched them to the Captain's quarters the day before. He remembered the discomfort he had felt upon their first meeting, and the current look in this man's eyes did nothing to dissuade him of it.

"Well, now, it seems the arm's healed up nice." His smile was insincere.

"A little raw, but functioning." Archie raised his chin slightly, keeping his expression friendly while also keeping his guard. The man walked around the opposite side of the gun and shared Archie's view.

"Nice day out. Don't guess swimming would be your thing, seeing as how you have a bum arm."

"I would prefer not to. Besides, with the Captain's agenda, I doubt we'd have time to stop."

"Pity that. Would like a swim, myself." He eyed Archie. "'Course you look fresh enough."

Archie's warning bells were going off. He couldn't help it.

"I bet you clean like a cat."

"I really should be off, sir." Archie made to leave, but was blocked. He took a deep, readying breath and faced the man. "Kindly step aside and let me pass."

Borders stepped closer, baring down on Kennedy. Archie met his gaze with venom, blue eyes blazing. He refused to back down. Refused to. He had been through too much to be bullied and stepped on.

"You remind me of someone," the man said, his face close to Archie's. "Can't put my finger on it. I know you ain't him, but you make me think of him. That's why I look at you so, I'm trying to remember."

"Then I wish you luck in your recollection." Archie didn't blink, didn't budge. He was stone.

"Aye. Because I don't like this feeling. This person that you remind me of, I hated him," he leaned in, "and you make me hate you. Snot-nosed brat, he was. You don't want me to hate you, do you, boy?"

Archie stepped closer, now nose to nose with the man. "You, sir," he said in a low voice both commanding and firm, "will address me by my proper title. You will remember your place, or by god I'll have Captain Rapier on you for insubordination."

The grin was predatory. "Aye, sir," he said, and back away casually. "Sorry to disturb you, Lieutenant."

Archie watched until he was gone, then sagged against the guns.

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Horatio found him there some time later. His first reaction was to run to the young man's side, for he had seen that blank look before. _God, no, not now, not here._ He forced himself to calm down and casually walk to his friend, sitting quietly beside him on the floor. The blue eyes were fixed to the wall across from him. Horatio took a steadying breath. "Archie?"

To his relief the eyes suddenly focused and turned. "Horatio! How was the meeting?"

He shrugged. "Impossible. Doable. Hard to say until we get there."

"So we're really doing this?"

"It would appear so." Horatio glanced at the gun beside them. "What of these beauties?"

"I doubt they'll win a fair glance, these beauties. All nine of them."

"Nine?"

"Not quite like our good ole' Indie, is it? And that's only if their true condition matches my reckoning. The truth of it is, this whole deck desperately needs an overhaul."

"Are you saying they won't fire?"

"Oh, they'll fire. I'm saying they're not battle ready, nor are they likely to be." He patted the one beside him. "This one's charred inside and out; I doubt it has had a good cleaning in months, and I doubt a good cleaning would help it now. That one there," he pointed several guns away, "has a cracked casing, as does the one next to it. You notice the planks?"

Horatio nodded. "Fairly new wood, well, newer than this." He glanced above him. "Must've been quite a hit. When do you supposed these guns were last used?"

"From the looks of things? Ages. These guns have not seen a battle, nor fire for that matter, probably since we first boarded the _Indie_."

"Then what the devil's the man been doing all this time?"

"I don't know. But getting these guns ready for battle is going to be a full-time proposition. Have you a plan?"

"Yes, and I'll tell it to you later. Of course a lot of it depended on the condition of these cannons." Horatio set his head back against the wall and shook it slowly. "We'll need to make some adjustments."

Archie nodded and eyed the area with a sigh. "I saw Goddwyn earlier. Invited him for more games and talk, if that is to your liking." He gestured to the canons in futility. "Provided I can clear myself of these duties."

"Absolutely! He says he doesn't have any friends here, really, it would do him well to socialize with someone more his age." Horatio stood and reached down for Archie. "Now, show me exactly what needs to be done with these guns. Rapier may have wanted me on board for the tactical evaluation, but it looks to be a good thing that he has you aboard for the gunnery!" His smile faded as the troubled look once again passed over his friend. "Archie, what is it?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing, just. . .nothing. Let's take a look at this one, shall we?" Archie pasted a smile on his face and tried to ignore the singular chill that seemed to pass right through him.

And in the shadows, Borders grinned quietly moved on.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Horatio next saw Archie, late that evening, he was blackened from head to toe. His shirt was torn and beyond saving, his face sweaty and dark. His hair clumped to his head in thick strands, yet through it all his bright eyes shown. His lips were pulled back in a grimace as he bent over one of the guns, steadying it with five other men as it was forced into the repaired mounting. Horatio stood to the side, not wanting to disturb them. He was glad to see that Archie seemed to have everything under control, and that the men seemed to be responding to him well. It was a favorable sign after a rather cold reception. It wasn't until Archie stood and stretched back, then subconsciously rubbed his shoulder that Horatio dared approached. "How are things?"

A weary face met his, then lightened subtly. "Well," he said, and Horatio heard the fatigue in his voice, "we're up to twelve that I feel safe to shoot. The others may be used in reserve, but. . ." he shook his head and sighed. "I should tell the Captain. Maybe he'll reconsider his plan when he realizes he plans to attack an entire port with only twelve guns and few men. Well, make that seven, unless he swings hard about."

"I assure you, he has already considered the possibility. But the bells have rung, come and let's eat." He glanced over the fatigued man. "I'll feed you if I must, if indeed you can be found in amongst that filth."

"As I recall you've fed me once before, and that was enough," Archie said. "Let me clean and I'll be there presently."

"I'll walk back with you." Horatio joined his friend after listening to him give out the remaining orders. "What of the sand bags?"

Archie was wiping at his hands with a kerchief that looked no better than the grit he tried to remove. "Well stocked. I'm hoping we won't be needing the amount we have. If that much blood is spilt beside the guns, it isn't the slipping we'll have to worry about. It's who will be alive to slip."

"I've surveyed the decks," Horatio added. "Luckily there doesn't seem to be much to move. This ship is not as cluttered as our _Indie_, we should be able to get about fairly easily." They entered the tiny cabin, and Archie disappeared into the wash area. Horatio leaned against the wall. "Hammocks are easily tied aside. All in all, everything is prepared with minor exceptions."

"Like artillery?"

Horatio rounded his shoulders and released the tension in his back. "We've picked up speed. Should be there a day and a half ahead of schedule."

A face reddened with rubbing appeared around the corner. "Swell."

"Archie," Horatio chewed his cheek and looked to the low ceiling, "I have to tell you. I had a good talk with the Captain, well, he had the good talk, and I don't think he's maddened."

The face reappeared around the corner, still red, and with eyes wide. "No, apparently not. You are the mad one."

"Hear me out." Horatio sat on the sea chest. "His logic is sound. His strategy is rarely flawed. This isn't a man who's faculties are leaving him. He really is as sharp as his name."

"But bent at the end?"

"Doubled edged, certainly. It's the minor things that give him trouble. Figures. Place names. Dates."

"Those are minor things?"

Horatio conceded the point. "He can still out maneuver anyone in the fleet, he just can't concentrate on the issue long enough to work out the specifics. He has some brilliant plans, Archie. Brilliant."

"Brilliant enough to keep us alive, then?"

Horatio sent him a pointed look. "He's not crazy."

"Well, that answers that. Hand me my breeches, will you?" A moment later he walked out, bare chested. He pulled a clean shirt over a mostly clean body.

"What I'm saying is, when you present your findings to him, do so with an open mind, and not like you're expecting him to go into a fit." Horatio's plea turned into a look of quick regret as he realized what he had said.

But Archie hardly batted an eye. He pulled the strings of his shirt and reached for his jacket. "He will hear only the facts from me, rest assured. You're the strategist; if I should get killed I'll just blame it on you." And he led the way to the mess.

Archie did present his case in a professional manner, and not only that, but looked rather astounded when it was taken in stride with due consideration. Rapier sat back in his chair, his fingers worrying his growing beard. His eyes were fixed on the spot over Archie's head as though studying a painting, but Archie knew there was no painting there, only planks. His gaze drifted towards Horatio, who was watching the Captain intently.

Horatio, for his part, could see the wheels turning in the older man's mind, and wondered if this ploy was to be dropped after all. Granted, twelve guns was still heavy fire power for an initial attack. It was after the initial attack that concerned him. And still he had no idea what their primary motive was. To revenge an attack on a ship of His Majesty's navy, to be sure, but on land? Did he really think they could take the force that would be applied against them?

The Captain sighed. His eyes turned to the men, eyes that were more clear than they had seen since their arrival. "Well, gentlemen, I suggest we reverse our thinking in light of the situation before us. We must attack on land first, and bid our retreat with the ship's guns."

Horatio lifted his chin. This plan had been his suggestion, and now the Captain had taken it as his own. He had Kennedy's attention, the blond head lowered towards Rapier. The Captain continued, "We must devise a means for going to port. Stay for two days. Then we make our presence known, and bid our farewells. Damn it all, " Rapier suddenly stood and walked the length of the cabin, "this throws a wrench in everything. I thought those guns were in better condition. The _Lexie_, which holds the rest of my men, has only ten guns. Three work." He glared at Archie as though the whole venture was his fault. "It was the best I could obtain under such sort notice."

"Sir," Horatio said, "you keep referring to plans and notices, is this an issue from the Admiralty?"

"Good heavens, no, man! I told you that. This is my own commission, for the benefit of the King, whether he knows it or not. Such is the state of things, we have men dying and he does nothing. Now tell me, gentlemen, is this right?"

"Perhaps if you explain the full situation, sir," Horatio responded carefully, "we might be better equipped to take advantage of our options."

The Captain turned briskly, ready to fling a retort, and took in the young faces before him. He slumped. "Very well." He resumed his seat. "The situation, as it stands, is this. I am certain you fellows know of the slave trade in which we are engaged, transporting these natives to India and England and the United States as well as up and down the coast of Africa. This vessel has served as a transport for the past year."

"So that's what you've been doing," Archie said quietly.

Rapier shifted uncomfortably. "Indeed. It was known to just a few in the Admiralty, they wanted the number of ships currently used to transport slaves kept a secret. Due to the war, you see."

Horatio saw it too plainly. Rapier's mind had been in steady decline for a while then, this was a way for the Admiralty to keep using a serviceable craft for the good of the country, while keeping a respected man occupied and out of harm's way. "And what are your feelings on that, sir?"

"Feelings?" Rapier seemed to deflate, his hands falling in his lap. "Oh, I suppose it achieves a good purpose. But to tell the truth, it has become damned monotonous. The same routes, the same stinking men. Have you ever been near slaves? No hygiene at all, these creatures. No sense of self-respect. They just stare with those glaring eyes, some look like right monsters. They should be glad to be in service of such as the British Empire, for they really don't deserve such high treatment. No better than the strays on the street, the lot of them. And I have been transporting these beggars day in and day out."

"But it is for the good of the people," Horatio pressed. "You do His Majesty a service."

"Aye, that I do."

"Then, I guess I don't understand the need for this attack on the very port that I assume you transport the slaves from."

Rapier sighed. "No, I guess not. This is the way of it. I am weary. Now these . . . vandals . . . have served in an uprising and attacked our settlement. They resent their families being taken from them, in so far as they have any feelings, hell, I suppose I'd feel the same. But they constantly attack our port, killing good British citizens and their families, most of which have nothing to do with the slave trade. The King sees this as a mishap. I see this as a situation that needs be stopped if we are to preserve our righteous name."

"You intend to drive them back."

Rapier gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forwards. "Mr. Hornblower, I intend to wipe them out." His lips curled back in a snarl. "Death is too good for these heathen bastards. I will burn the lands they feed their cattle upon, I will dry up any water supplies they may have. They will beg to board these ships and flee to the land of milk and honey. Irons around their necks will mean nothing." He sat back.

Horatio studied his wrist, which was propped against the table's edge. His forefinger and thumb rubbed against each other for a few moments in agitation, then he leaned his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. "Sir," he said carefully, weighing his thoughts and the words to used to express them, "I, like every respectable subject of His Majesty, can see the need for the slave trade, and I resent the attacks on our own people. But your plan is a bit. . .ambitious. . .for such a small crew, is it not?"

"The element of surprise. You should know it well, Mr. Hornblower. They will not expect it of us. It takes only one man to blow up a village. It takes only one to raise his gun to the leader. It takes only on to give the cry, and one more to contaminate the waters and leave a message that will blaze across the land: that we are not to be trifled with."

Horatio was getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. His glance at Archie showed a face paler than was proper in the bright sun that streamed into the room. "You mean for Mr. Kennedy and myself to carry out this mission."

"I do."

"Sir. . ."

"We must rethink our plans, of course," Rapier responded quickly. "There is little time to waste, and I must send a man to rendevous with the _Lexie_. She will wait in the harbor while we port. Better yet, there is an area just before port, where the land juts out. You will take a jolly boat to this area. We will wait for the signal. When you return, we will take sail. We will make the bend, towards the land of these savages, and blow them to hell."

"And the port itself will remain untouched."

"I should hope."

Archie shifted. His hair caught the light and gleamed like a halo, and Horatio almost expected him to raise up out of his chair and strike them with eternal damnation for what they were about to embark upon. Instead he remained silent.

"And that, gentlemen," the Captain rose, "is the plan as we have it. I must ready a man for the _Lexie_; if you would be so good as to rejoin me after we dine, when we can work out the specifics of this venture. Until then."

Archie and Horatio slowly rose and gave the appropriate tokens of respect, then found themselves with heads bent in the tiny corridor outside the room. They merely looked at each other for a long moment before heading on deck.

Borders saw them come up, and nudged Morgan. He nodded and walked over to the men. "Mr. Hornblower, sir, beggin' your pardon, but I was wondering if you could glance up at this masthead. It looks a bit unstable to me, but my eyesight isn't what it used to be."

"Of course."

"Might ought to get a few more ropes from below, sir, incase we need to brace the sail."

"Right." Horatio looked around, but no other man was to be found that could be spared.

"I'll go," Archie said, "I think I can haul it, and if not I'll simply ask a man from below to assist me."

"Thank you, Mr. Kennedy."

Archie nodded and hurried back down. Horatio walked underneath the mast, looking up into the glare of the sun. He shielded his eyes, and felt a presence right beside his ear. "Nothing's amiss with the mast, sir," the low voice said, "I just wanted you alone. No, no, don't stop looking, act as though we are studying the mast, sir. I am concerned. I hear we are going to battle, is that true, sir?"

"I thought everyone on the ship knew of this."

"Not really sir, I mean to say as the Cap'n's made no formal announcement. Do you know what's going on, sir?"

"I believe," Horatio said gently, "that would be for the Captain to say, and not me."

"But we are returning to the port. I know the route, sir, I can tell by the night stars sure as the beating of my heart. I just wish to know what's going on."

"And I wish I could tell you. But it really isn't my place."

"Cor, sir, you're a Lieutenant in His Majesty's navy! And you say you can't tell your men what they're sailing into?"

"You place me in a difficult position, Mr. . ."

"Morgan, sir. Samuel Morgan."

"Mr. Morgan, I will try and ask the Captain exactly when he plans to inform his crew of the situation. That is all I can do."

"I know that sometimes the crew ain't told things in case they're captured, then they can't talk cause they don't know nothin'. Are we a threat to be captured, sir?"

Horatio regarded the man next to him. He reminded Horatio faintly of Matthews, he had the same grizzled curly hair and mild manner. He felt his heart soften.

"I'll see to it personally that no one from this ship is captured," he promised.

Morgan stiffened. "Then it is a battle, sir. We're finally fighting in this war."

Horatio cursed himself underneath his breath. His eyes rolled in frustration. "I didn't say that, though I can see how you would make the assumption." He glanced behind him. "I wonder what's taking Mr. Kennedy so long?"

"The ropes are far in the back."

"Yes, but even with help he should be back on deck."

"Give him a moment more. Do you really think you can talk to the Captain?"

"I do have his ear."

"It's just. . .there have been times in the past when his silence has nearly gotten us right killed. That's one reason he was forced to take this position, it was this or leave the seas altogether. As it is, we are supposed to be decommissioned. He's to retire."

"Captain Rapier retire? Is that so? That bit of news I did not know. I thought he wanted a last adventure as Captain of this particular ship before it was decommissioned, you mean to say he's being removed from the seas completely?"

"Aye. His mind ain't right, you know. He can't think like he used to. Mind was like nothing I've ever seen, and it's gone right downhill. Got men killed, it has. He's threat to himself and this ship, if you ask me."

"I suggest you keep your misgivings to yourself, Mr. Morgan, lest someone hear." Horatio turned and glanced behind him, then lowered his voice. "But I have heard the same complaints before. Is there anyone else on the ship willing to corroborate these comments?"

"There are several who would throw the man off the ship if need be."

Horatio blinked in confusion. "But I thought he had perfect respect of the crew!"

"I don't mean into the sea, sir! I mean to see him pleasantly settled into retirement, in a nice home with a warm fire. He's done more for us than any other Cap'n can think of, and we owe him that. But it is time for the man to go before he does himself in, or worse, does the lot of us in!"

"How does he feel about retirement?"

"The devil's own venom. He'll not have it. He says he was meant to die at sea, not in bed."

Horatio frowned. "I see. Thank you for sharing your information, Mr. Morgan, I'll see that it goes no further. And I can also see," Horatio glanced up again and continued in a louder voice, "that this rigging looks stable enough, so I'll tell Mr. Kennedy to belay the ropes."

"Aye, sir. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan." He received the salute and caught Border's arm as he walked past. "Your name, sir?"

"Borders, sir. We've met."

"Only partially, as you didn't see fit to tell me your name when first you fetched myself and Mr. Kennedy to the Captain."

Borders had the grace to appear ashamed at his behavior. "Aye, sir, I apologize for that. I was still a trifle annoyed about your being here. See, one of the Lieutenants lost in the storm was a mate of mine. I respected the man." Horatio noticed he kept his face partially turned, and assumed it was from his shame.

"I can understand the awkwardness, Mr. Borders. However, it was an ill way to treat a superior officer, and you notice I chose to overlook it under the circumstances."

"You did sir, I thank you."

Horatio gave a nod and released him. "Have you seen Mr. Kennedy below?"

"I haven't, but I can go below if you like."

"I would, Mr. Borders. He is fetching rope that's no longer required, would you tell him?"

"Aye aye, sir." Borders knuckled his forehead and hurried to the stairs. Horatio straightened his posture and nodded to a midshipman that walked by. He wondered where Goddwyn was. He wanted to talk to him about this new development, and found it interesting that the young man wasn't included in the talks with the Captain, especially since he was one of the senior officers on deck, considering the loss. One Lieutenant other than himself, then it fell to Archie and Goddwyn as the Acting Lieutenants. There was Rosland, who seemed a very capable man but not commissioned. Horatio had no clue as to what role he actually played, but had seen him talking quite a bit to Goddwyn, and supposed he was the only friend that Goddwyn had before the arrival of Archie and himself. It was hard to say, their conversations were never really animated nor long. There were the other sailors, some who had names he couldn't hope to pronounce. It was a varied crew. He watched them as the went about their duties, and was brought back by a loud shout from Borders, "Sir! Come quickly, there's been an accident, sir!"


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing that went through Horatio's mind was, 'that's it, the Captain's drunk himself in'. But the memory of Border's errand dispelled that notion and Horatio found himself running down to the lower decks, heading to the back rooms. It took no time at all, and he nearly tripped over Archie's inert body. "Archie?" He bent down and cradled his friend's head. His eyes were closed, and there was no obvious sign of injury. He pulled Archie to him and turned to Morgan, who had followed. "Get the doctor, quickly man! Go!" Morgan nodded and hurried off as Borders bent over his shoulder.

"He gonna be all right, sir?"

"I don't know, I don't know what's happened." With one hand Horatio loosened Archie's shirt at the throat and felt his pulse. Steady enough. "I supposed he could have just collapsed."

"Not good to bring an ill man on board. And with that bum arm. . ."

"Oh, get off the arm notion, his arm is fine." Horatio snapped, trying not to panic, and felt his friend's forehead. "This fever your men had, how did it start? Was there weakness beforehand?"

"Aye, it was. That and a loss of appetite."

"Those men with the fever are in quarantine?"

Borders frowned. "They were transported to the other ship, sir. They ain't here."

"But the Captain said. . ." Horatio fumed silently. "Dammit." His attention shifted as Archie gave a low groan. "Archie?" He patted the man's cheek. "Archie, can you hear me?"

After a moment, eyes slitted open. His chest rose as a deep breath filled his lungs. "Horatio?" The voice was small.

"Are you all right?"

Archie took another deep breath and opened his eyes fully. He blinked a few times, then noticed he was being held. "Oh, this will never do," he muttered.

Horatio chuckled and looked up as the doctor approached. "Thank God. He just woke up, I don't know what has happened." He waited as the doctor felt his forehead and checked his pulse much as Horatio had done. After a few moments he backed off with nothing to offer.

"Let him rest," was the only advice he gave before disappearing.

Archie gave a small smile. "His expert opinion, of course."

"So it would seem. Can you stand?"

"I believe so."

Horatio supported his friend as he wobbled before finding his footing. Archie gave a single nod and eased Horatio from his side, noticing and appreciating that his friend still kept a firm grip on his arm. Morgan was there to help, but Borders had retreated with the doctor. The two men eased Archie back to the cabin, shakily, pausing to let the younger man get his bearings. Once at his hammock he lay back carefully and winced, throwing one arm over his eyes in his customary fashion. "Thank you, Mr. Morgan," Horatio said gratefully. "We appreciate your assistance."

"Think nothing of it, sir. Hope Mr. Kennedy is okay." Morgan gave a nod and left the two men.

Horatio sighed and looked down at his friend. He hadn't moved. His lips were parted slightly as he took in deep inhalations. "How are you?"

Archie licked his lips and shifted his arm, his eyes now studying the beams above him. "Confused." His eyes met Horatio's. "What happened?"

"I've no idea. I sent you for ropes, then Mr. Borders came running out of the hold yelling that there had been an accident. I thought you had been gone longer than necessary, but felt maybe you had trouble finding someone to haul the ropes up. Which we didn't need, by the way."

"Rigging was okay?"

"It was." Horatio took in Archie's pale face. "Are you really all right?"

"I feel strange in my head. Not bad, just disjointed. Lord, do you supposed I fainted like a woman?"

Horatio couldn't help but smile. It made him feel better to hear Archie poke fun at himself. But his worry remained.

It didn't fade during the night. In fact an event happened that through the situation into further turmoil. For the first time in what seemed like ages, Archie had a fit.

It wasn't as severe as they had been, thankfully, but it did wake Horatio. He hurried to his friend's side, holding his arms and smoothing his damp hair from his forehead while talking in calm, hushed tones. Although the fit wasn't severe, it seemed to last longer than normal, and upon awakening Archie was more confused. He shoved Horatio away several times before realizing who he was and what had happened, and then the poor man just lay in the hammock panting, sweating, and listening to his friend assuring him that everything was going to be okay. And that was when Archie remembered what had happened.

"It was Borders," he said softly, after some prompting. "He came up behind me, quickly, I think he was waiting for me. He made a snide comment. I faced him and suddenly found myself on the ground. He'd pushed me, and he was standing over me with a sneer on his face. I've no idea what he intended, really but. . .I lost it, Horatio." Archie sounded surprised, and his expression complimented. "I-I rose and tried to beat him! I saw red, I though it was Simpson facing me. I think I scared him," he gave a stale laugh, "he had gone all cocky on me since we first arrived. He was in the gunnery that day I was examining the guns, and he made comments, and I remembered that and. . . I lashed out. I remember him hitting me hard, and I think I blacked out from the pain. Just here," he reached for the back of his head, and Horatio reached out to feel a firm knot. "Just as well he did, because I may well have killed him." He paused, shaking his head in consternation. "I was furious, Horatio, I didn't know what to do, or think, I just hit hard and fast and with everything I had."

Horatio breathed out softly and placed his hand on Archie's shoulder. "I think you just exorcized your demons, Archie. You stood up to a man that tried to back you down. Maybe he didn't deserve the beating you gave him, but I bet he thinks twice about approaching you in the same manner." He glared for a moment, and once again examined the knot on the back of Archie's head. "Borders. That son of a bitch. Why didn't you mention him that day?"

"So Horatio could come to my rescue?" Archie gave a wry smile. "I guess I needed to deal with this on my own, and I did. And I'm glad."

"Then why the fit, Archie? Bad memories?"

The bright eyes darkened. "Probably because I enjoyed beating him." He turned woeful eyes to his friend.

"Archie . .." Horatio sighed and rubbed his friend's arm before standing. "You've nothing to regret. You let your temper get the better of you, yes. Now put it aside. At least you've learned to fight the battle, and win."

Archie nodded. "You reckon I should apologize?"

"No. Leave it be." He gave his friend a final pat on the arm and returned to his hammock. "I had wondered why he disappeared so fast. Bet you beat him pretty badly."

"He's afraid to show his face?" The thought amused Archie.

"Literally, it would seem. It would also explain why he seems rather considerate all of a sudden. I feel as though he pushed his game too far, and now he's debating the consequences. And by god, I shall give it to him!"

"Let it go, Horatio. No harm done, really. Maybe he's learned his lesson; I fear we have enough to worry about without this to compound it. I honestly believe I'll have no more trouble from him, and we need every man we've got."

"You may be right. But I'll keep my eye on him, rest assured."

"I'd never doubt it."

"Well." Horatio leaned back. "Now let's get back to sleep, eh? More problems on the morrow."

"I can't wait," Archie muttered, and snuggled back down.

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The next few days were rather uneventful, considering. Borders apparently did repent, for whatever reason, and showed nothing but respect towards the young Mr. Kennedy. Archie, being the graceful man of honor, never brought up the subject to use against him. But Horatio saw the glances Borders gave when Archie wasn't looking, and the resentment burned him. If Archie wasn't going to watch his back, then Horatio would simply do it for him.

His tension was compounded by the obstinance of the Captain. Rapier would not discuss the upcoming siege; instead he fixed his sights on questioning Mr. Kennedy on his knowledge of naval tactics and, more importantly, about his family. Horatio was excluded from these little insights into his friend's mind, and he found this new interest amusing at first, but as time pressed on with no companionship, it became rather annoying. He found himself hesitating outside the Captain's quarters, hearing the voices inside, mostly Rapier's, of course, but plenty of action from Archie as well. For a painful moment he wondered if he felt jealous because his friend was occupied, or if maybe, just maybe, he felt jealousy because this esteemed, if questionable, Captain, had taken interest in his friend rather than himself. Only once did his Archie comment on this development, a whisper as he walked by, "mad, purely mad, Horatio," without so much as a telling glance. This lightened Horatio's mood, but only for a short while. He was well immersed in his gloom when Goddwyn found him at the rail. "Are you thinking on this venture, Horatio?" Goddwyn asked him quietly.

_One of many._ Horatio allowed a smile to cross his face. "What man isn't, Mr. Goddwyn?"

"Oh, I'm certain everyone on board is currently contemplating the cause of his own destruction, but I'm not so certain this particular campaign will be the cause of it."

"That is well for you to say. You're staying on board."

"Only because the Captain trusts you more so than I." There was a grudging respect in Goddwyn's voice.

"Now that's not true. I've heard Captain Rapier speak very highly of you."

"If I get his spirits to him on time, sure. But as a sailor? No. I'm far too young to his eyes."

"Good lord man, does he not look around? The navy is swarming with capable officers, all within our years!" Unconsciously Horatio surveyed the seas as though sailors were walking on the water.

"Not on his ship." Goddwyn leaned his elbows on the rail, his hands clasped, his gaze far away. "The only way I can further my career is to transfer. Yet the Captain refuses to let me go."

"Surely once this ship is in port at England. . ."

"Do you really expect to get that far?" Goddwyn faced Horatio solemnly. "Do you really see Captain Rapier having his boat towed back to England to be put into dock permanently? The ship is the man, and the man is the ship. He'll scuttle before returning."

"Scuttle? Surely not. . ." Horatio paused. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"He's holding a ship in reserve. He is putting us off at the shore. The grand venture he's planning at the harbor. . .he's going to scuttle the ship!"

"You're lying."

"Goddwyn, you just said it yourself! Why offload half his crew? And what are your orders, hm? What is to be done after Mr. Kennedy and I are cast off?"

Goddwyn just shrugged. He did not look the least bit put off by Horatio's tone. "We pull into port and await your signal. That is all I know."

"I bet he transfers everyone onto the other vessel. I bet, _I bet_, he uses this as a fire ship to destroy the port."

"Why?"

"No guns."

"No, I mean, why destroy the port? It is the native factions he wants to be rid of, why destroy the property of His Majesty? He is bent on saving the port, not destroying it!"

This was true. Horatio sighed and leaned on the rail. "Unless there is another port." He frowned and stared over the sea, pulling at his bottom lip in thought. "He never actually pin- pointed the port in his plans, he just mentioned it. What an ass I am! I merely assumed. . ." Horatio smacked the rail in frustration. "That is why he's no longer sharing his plans. As usual, he sees fit to notify everyone of his actions at the last minute!"

"And go out in a blaze of glory." Goddwyn nodded. "It is his way, Horatio, you'll do little to change it."

"I must discovery what this other port is, and where it is. For all I know Archie and I could be permanently disembarked."

"No, no, we'll simply pick you up in the other ship. It is that easy."

Horatio sighed. "If only it were."

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The small ship slid past the cliffs. The cliffs were impassive, having stared out over hundreds and hundreds of years of arrivals and departures, usually people sneaking off to enjoy the white beaches. But this arrival was different. It was solitary and solemn in its approach. The cliffs had no care in the world.

Horatio had a care. He stopped rowing long enough to study the small beach and the rock wall completely surrounding it. One wooden oar thudded heavily into the boat, then the other. He leaned his elbows on his knees, eyeing the natural blockade and breathing hard. Archie too had stopped rowing, and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, that's nice," he muttered. "What do we do now?"

Horatio's words were more decisive than his tone. "We shall have to climb."

There was a moment of silence. "Horatio," Archie then said, slowly, "the next time I inquire as to our next action, feel free to pull the rudder and hit me over the head."

"Not funny, Archie."

"It is about as funny as climbing that wall!"

Horatio just gave a single nod. "Is your arm up to it?"

"The state of your mind is of more concern to me than the state of my arm."

"Then it is decided."

Archie stared. "What? Wait, who decided?"

"I did." Horatio retook his oars, a smug smile trying hard to hide on his expressive face.

Archie nodded. "Right. Right, then. It is what, only two, three hundred feet or so."

"At most."

"Not a sheer face, I mean, there must be grips somewhere."

"Undoubtedly."

"Easily done, then."

"Of course."

"Like climbing the rigging, all the way to the top."

Archie caught his revenge as he saw Horatio angle his head downwards as he fought to stifle his own fear of heights. "Absolutely."

"Then explain to me why your are the one to make the suggestion, and I am the one whose heart is pounding."

"Adrenaline, Mr. Kennedy. The thrill of adventure!"

"Or maybe the fact that we have no idea what lies on the other side of those cliffs?" Archie's jest took on a more serious tone.

Horatio stopped rowing. "I know you were trying to cheer me, Archie, in regards to those cliffs, but I can see that you're holding your own fear in reserve. What is the matter?"

Archie pulled the oars a few more times, then stopped and leaned forward to catch his breath. His eyes were two anxious orbs in a tanned face. "It is this plan, Horatio. We've no idea what we're walking into, and what's more, you've allowed it! I would have expected more caution from you!"

"I fail to see where we ever had the luxury of deciding for ourselves!" Horatio fixed Archie with a stern look. "Look, I have every confidence in your ability. Have you none in mine?"

"Horatio!" Archie admonished. "Can you honestly ask me that?"

"Then believe me when I say we will carry out his orders, and find ourselves fresh and back on the _Indie _in no time at all."

"I do believe _you_. But I don't trust _him_. He's liable to sail away and leave us stranded here."

"And forgo his chance at his last great battle? I find reason to doubt that."

"Doesn't matter now, anyway." Archie pulled in his oars. "Here we are."

They scraped the boat onto the sand. Horatio winced upward, his hand shielding the glare from his eyes. He exhaled roughly, hands falling to rest on slim hips. He squinted at Archie. "We ready, then?"

Archie was studying the cliffs as well. "I think here," he pointed to a slight overhang, "we should be able to scale the cliff along this line, then bear to the right. Looks to be the safest route, what do you think?"

"Sound as always." Horatio clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms. He looked over his borrowed clothes. "I supposed if we put a few rips in these while climbing they will look even more authentic."

"Shame. I was looking to see about commissioning this as our new uniform." He eyed his dingy grey shirt and fingered the faded red kerchief around his neck.

Horatio merely smiled. He was similarly dressed, his shirt being slightly darker, and his kerchief blue. It was yet another surprise thrust upon them at the last minute; if they went in looking like the locals rather than officers of the seas, they were less likely to be shot on sight by the 'spies' set forth by the natives. Horatio had hope to complete the mission set in His Majesty's regalia, but had to admit this plan had merit. He held no hidden desire to be shot.

The climb started easily enough. Hand over hand, foot over foot. There were plenty of grips, though some were not so stable. Archie started out at Horatio's insistence. He said it was because Archie seemed to be able to pinpoint the exact path they needed to traverse, but the truth of the matter was, with his shoulder not yet fully healed, Horatio wanted to be able to observe him, just in case. He needn't have worried, Archie was spry as a monkey as he scaled the rock face. Horatio found it difficult to match his pace, despite Archie's urging. His hands, roughened by rope, hardly felt the rock he clung too. Or was that fear, could he just be numb? He was more worried about the venture than he was willing to show. It was all he could do to concentrate on his climb. His mind darted off toward different scenarios, each one rather unpleasant. So caught up was he in his thoughts that he heard Archie's warning too late.

A large rock bounced within inches of his head. Horatio startled, which was enough to loosen the rocks he was holding on to. He slipped, but managed to catch hold desperately, his legs swinging over nothingness. And there he dangled, just underneath the right edge of the overhang.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for being patient with the updates. I feel it fair to warn everyone that this chapter leads to material that I hope readers won't find offfensive, as it regards the slave trade and views of social classes of the time. I'm trying to portray these events as realistically as possible, though keep in mind that I'm no scholar and this is fiction. I intend no disrespect.

Thanks for reading!

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"Horatio!" Archie's sweaty face appeared over the side. He looked back over his shoulder, then held out his arm. "Take my hand!"

Horatio cursed his uncustomary lack of concentration and gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was let go, even to grab his friend's hand to save his own life. Blue eyes glared down at him, fearful, determined. He grimaced and with a yell forced himself to let go of the cliff with one hand, swinging his arm up as high as possible. Archie grabbed hold right as the supporting rock gave way, leaving Horatio dangling by one arm.

Archie's voice was strained. "Dammit! God!"

"Archie!" Horatio instinctively kicked and swung his other hand upwards.

"I've got you!" He grabbed Horatio's free hand, ignoring the sudden pain in his muscle, and tried to raise himself. Horatio managed to find a foothold. He walked up the rock face with slick steps, Archie holding him, and they gasped in relief as they rolled together onto the small cliff shelf.

Horatio's breathing was raspy with fear. He closed his eyes and fought to regain control over his emotions. When his eyes opened, Archie was by his side, propped on one elbow, looking down at him. "I believe I owe you both an apology and my thanks," Horatio said.

"And you thought this would be easy." Archie managed a smile.

"Yes, well, I have been known to make mistakes. . .on occasion"

"And we're not even up the cliff face yet. We still have to find this settlement, lay siege and destruction without getting ourselves killed, get back without getting ourselves killed, make our escape without getting ourselves killed. . ."

"Yes, thank you Archie. What exactly is your point?"

He smiled devilishly. "My point, Mr. Hornblower, is this. We have work to do. Now get off your ass."

"That smacks of disrespect, Mr. Kennedy." Horatio pushed himself to his feet, and reached down for his friend.

"No offense is intended. Yet." Archie accepted the help and winced as he stood. He rubbed his shoulder, moving the joint gingerly. "But I think we may need to go a bit slower this time."

"I just as soon get this over and done. Do you need help?"

"No, I'm fine. Just stiff."

"Just the same. Up you go, go on."

The next assent went more smoothly. The rocks above the overhang were larger and more jagged, which provided plenty of hand and foot holds. It also ripped at tender flesh and tore at their clothing. Both were determined not to look down. Both did anyway.

The cliff top leveled out without warning, and they found themselves treading up a gentle slope, cresting the top, and looking down over a plain bordered on the opposite side by trees. From their vantage they could just make out the bay to their right, and the area where the docks lay, though the actual position was blocked. A tallship could be seen far on the horizon, shrouded in haze, looking more like an ethereal craft than one man made. Horatio and Archie stood still and took in the area, catching their breath and trying to decide on the best course of action. "I'm not sure about you," Archie said once he could speak, "but I could do with some food."

"Mutton pie." Horatio shielded his eyes. "It would be best to enter the port through the back door, as it were."

"Any idea where Rapier's headed?"

"I believe Rapier has his own agenda. And we have our orders." Horatio jerked his head towards the faint settlement that could just be seen. "So, let us feed ourselves and rest. And if we should see anyone even remotely resembling a sailor, walk the other way."

Archie rubbed his palms together. "Ah, discreet and undercover! I feel like a foreign spy."

"That's exactly what we are. Unfortunately." Horatio led the way down the hill. Archie, uncertain as to his friend's sudden gruff manner, followed.

The port was bustling, and very monochromatic. Every building was a dapper grey, in fact it was quite hard to tell one from the other. It clashed greatly with the green of the rolling hill which they had descended, and with the gentle blue sea that stretched before them. There were unnatural cobbled streets and carriages, a further display of wrenching the land from the natives and thrusting it into the British aristocracy.

Horatio nudged Archie and pointed to a sign marking lodgings. They entered, and after paying a fee were lead up a set of stairs to a single room high above. "Tis the best we have at the moment, guv," the man said stiffly, "due to we're lodging a lot of sailors at the moment. Seems the whole damn coast has come in for the goods this time."

"And what goods might that be?" Horatio asked, eyeing the room.

"Why, the heathen beggarts, sir! Ain't that why you're here?"

"Yes," Archie said quickly. "Yes, that's exactly why we're here."

"Well, you better get a move on, then. I saw the last bunch, if they ain't done much better than that then's ya got your work cut out for ya, that's what I say." The innkeeper bowed his head and made his exit.

Archie cast a wry look at Horatio and heaved a sigh. "Well, now what do we do? We can't exactly launch off in the light of day, can we?"

Horatio had removed his kerchief and was threading it through his right hand. He walked over to the window and threw open the shutter. The room was instantly filled with the sound of the street, of vendors yelling and children frolicking about. "How long a ride to our destination?"

Archie pulled his map from his bag and smoothed it out on top of the rough table. He studied it quietly. "It is hard to say from this scratching Rapier calls a map. And of course it depends on how long we stop for rest."

Horatio nodded. "Then I will go and look for a livery. I suggest you walk about and get a feel for what is going on here. We'll need a quick escape, and a good reason to get onboard a ship if ours refuses to show."

"Do you really think Rapier would leave us?"

"I prefer not to leave anything to chance." Horatio retied the kerchief around his neck. "First, let us eat. Then we tend to our duties, and meet again here."

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Their meal was finished quickly enough, and they separated. Archie wandered the streets at his leisure, glancing into the shops, striking the odd conversation with the men on the street. No one was very forthcoming with information, but that could easily have been due to the type of business being carried out. It wasn't befitting for the young ones, and the elders seemed to want no part of it. Archie found he was becoming curious, and headed opposite the sea, to the eastern most end of the township, where the cobbles disappeared and the dusty lands once again claimed ownership.

The buildings here should have been white, and used to be, but the swirling dust had whipped them to a shade lighter than the ground. Only the upper third of the buildings could be seen over the large posts and fence that encircled them like a prison. Archie hesitated outside, then boldly pushed open the enormous door with a creak. What he saw stunned him.

Dark men were lined along the walls, each one dressed shabbily. A few spoke in very low voices, so low that Archie could hear only a deep color of language and no more. He blinked, taking in the scene, quite unable to believe he was there looking at slaves who were about to be sold and deported. It had never occurred to him before to take notice of news of these unfortunate beasts. Now, he felt an odd gnawing in his gut. There was something about these people that frightened him.

"What business have you here?" An older man grabbed Archie by the arm, yanking him around and studying him closely. "No one is allowed who ain't in the market."

Archie noticed the whip in the man's hand, and every instinct he had buried since the incident with Simpson resurfaced with a vengeance. He stared at the whip and forced his mind to work. "But I am in the market," he said quickly. "I-I came aboard the-the Rapier." He stood tall. "We own farmlands that require more hands than we have. We were at sea and near port, and we heard of your stock." His nose wrinkled and he raised his chin disapprovingly as he recovered quickly from his shock. "Not much to look at, but we are desperate."

"If you have farmlands, what you doing at sea, then?"

"Surely you don't think that farming is our only business?" Archie looked around and leaned in. "Prices we get for certain good overseas exceed those home grown, if you get my meaning, sir."

"You are in the black market?"

"As are you. Now will you allow me to examine your stock, or shall I take my rather expensive business elsewhere?" Archie made a point of discreetly patting his pocket while his eyes wandered over the men before him. It was a moment before he met the man's gaze, and his eyebrows raised.

"Very well. Five minutes, no more. Shouldn't take longer than that, these ain't the best of our lot. Most them shipped out already. Got scouts picking up more, but they ain't 'spected to be here for another week at best."

"I see. Fine then, I'll just examine what you have here."

"Naw, you don't want these. These are sold." The man cocked his head. "You'll want this second lot through here." He led the way to a heavy wooden door.

Archie decided he was too deep into his rouse to back out. He steeled himself as the heavy door opened, and he walked into the second holding area.

Archie was little prepared for what he saw. Men were lined against the walls, chained by their wrists and feet and fitted with an iron collar around their necks which tethered them to the stonework at their backs. Some were trying to sleep, others looked about with lack-luster eyes. Some looked afraid, and Archie figured they were the newer arrivals. Others looked broken, and that wasn't including those that were obviously ill or dying. Cries rose in the air along with threats to be quiet to avoid the lashing. Flies were everywhere.

The man stood at Archie's shoulder, watching him with eyes that spoke volumes. He knew Archie had never seen a sight like this before, and he was enjoying the shock. "Shall I show you around then?"

"Uh, no. . .no thank you. I'm fine. I'll knock on the door when I am finished." Archie glanced over his shoulder, then fixed his eyes on the tragedy before him. He felt rather than saw the man leave.

He stood for what felt like an eternity. The scene before him failed to improve.

The men took no notice of him. They were used to people coming and going, poking and prodding and examining their teeth like travel-weary cattle. But as Archie finally started to walk, he noticed a few slaves underneath the cover of a thatched roof that stood defiantly, pulling at the chains that held them. He assumed that, since they were shaded, the heat had yet to penetrate their brains. These men held interest for Archie, and he walked closer.

And then he saw him.

His eyes were wild like a young mare's, and if he could have frothed at the mouth, he would have. Small limbs yanked at the thick chains, arms so thin they looked to break at the slightest movement, and yet he continued to struggle. On occasion he would yell out, words that rolled over each other like water over rocks in a stream. Archie had heard similar speech before from some of the sailors that had picked up the language from their travels, but the words meant nothing. However, there was no need questioning the meaning behind them as the chains rattled and dust rose. Finally the small stallion eased, sitting down, reluctantly giving in to his need to rest. His eyes fell on Archie and held them, hatefully.

For his part, Archie had never found himself on the receiving end of such a glare, and could not loose himself from it. He was stationary, the only thing moving was his hair as the hot sea breeze whipped it about. His blue eyes were fixed on the black ones that drilled into his soul. He started walking without realizing he was doing so. The man continued to hold his gaze, even as Archie knelt down just a few feet before him. The young man's skin was dark as night, his nostrils wide, his eyes now slitted in distrust. There was nothing about him that suggested wariness, only anger. Archie slowly raised his forefinger and pointed to himself. "Ar-chie." He tapped his chest. "Ar-chie."

He had no idea why. It wasn't like these people could do much more than sit in the sun and pant, it wasn't like they were intelligent enough to understand him. But they were, and looking in this man's eyes made Archie realize that everything he had ever seen or been told about the trade, and these heathens, was a lie. There was sorrow underneath the anger, pure despair, the kind that only a human can feel. The helplessness that required a working knowledge of the situation, not just the current moment, but in realizing what was to come. Archie inched closer and pointed at the man. "You?"

The man remained motionless. His head had fallen back against the wall, but he looked down his massive cheekbones at the man who dared approach him. Archie figured the prisoner to be around his age. He took in the scars along the torso and left arm. Carefully he pointed, then raised his shirt and pointed to his side, to the three inch scar he owned due to battle.

The man raised his head from the wall and eyed Archie. He snorted.

He pointed to himself again. "Ar-chie." Damn it all.

There was a sharp spout of language from the man, startling Archie, and closely followed by a different man approaching with a whip. "Enough outta you, you shit!" Archie backed away quickly as the whip cracked inches from his head, striking the cheek of the man before him. The man flinched, then turned burning eyes to him, eyes like coal. He slowly touched the wound, felt the blood, then, to Archie's astonishment, put his finger to his tongue. The whip cracked again, and again, and each time the man turned his head further and further down, refusing to cower, yet unable to face the sting. Pink welts formed then darkened. The blood dripped.

Archie jumped to his feet and caught the man's arm before he could strike again. "Are you mad?" he said between clenched teeth.

The proprietor snarled. "You must be, for getting in my way! Where are your papers?"

"I'm here to check the stock."

"Right, and where are your papers? You think we just let anyone in here?"

"I'm scouting. My papers. . ."

"Your papers are not on your person, therefore you are not allowed within these walls, now out with you! OUT!" He pushed Archie by the shoulder, steering him away from the dark man, but not before Archie saw the look of faint surprise on his face.

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Horatio had no luck in securing horses. The stable owner had insisted there were none to be lent out, which seemed unlikely as the stable was well stocked with lively animals. Horatio questioned, bribed, and all but ordered the man to release two of them, but to no avail. He was sent away in defeat, formulating a plan in his mind for swiping two when the time came. Archie's sudden and unexpected tirade when Horatio returned to their room did nothing to ease his temper.

He had risen and walked to the window of their room, his hands clasped firmly behind him as he tried to stifle his concern. In the end all he could do was brace his hands on the table and lean over his friend. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he practically hissed. "Battles on the sea isn't enough for you, now you want to stick your neck out willingly for it to be chopped off at the block?"

Archie was adamant. "I'm telling you, Horatio, this is wrong!"

"Dammit, Archie. . ."

"You didn't see it!" He rose and stalked around the table, trying to catch his friend's eye. Horatio slighted the attempt. "You didn't see this man being whipped, the chains, the way these people are harnessed together like cattle! It angers me to think that we condone this!"

Whatever Archie had seen, it had affected his soul. Horatio knew he would have no balm for such a wound. "Listen to me," he said in a low voice, finally rounded on his friend, his eyes violent with desperate emotion. "I like it no more than you do, believe me. But we are here for a reason . . ."

"Yes, the reason of a madman!" Archie chewed his bottom lip, averting his eyes. He rested his hands on his hips. "I honestly can't bring myself to defend this place," he muttered.

"And what would you do, huh?" Horatio asked, lividly. "Would you go back on your word, on your duty? No. You are an officer in His Majesty's Navy. You will do as you are told."

"Would you order me to, Horatio?" Archie's voice was soft, but firm. His stance was unmoving, but it was clear which answer he was hoping for.

"By god, Archie, if I have to, then yes. I will order you to do so."

"Duty first, then."

Horatio felt ill. He swallowed hard before speaking. "Please, do not put me in that situation."

"Before friendship."

"Archie. . ." Horatio pleaded, "do_ not_ go back there. I am asking you as a friend, as that friend you claim to treasure. You'll only be hurt, emotionally sure if not physically." He looked down at his clenched fist, and loosened it. His shoulders sagged. "And I can not bear that, nor will I be able to help."

"You would leave me to it."

"I would drag you from it."

"Right into a court martial."

Horatio turned away. He closed his eyes, unable to believe they were having this conversation. They were supposed to land, find the heathen village, set fire to it, drive the natives out towards the port, and get aboard ship. That was all they had to do. That was their duty. Not this. This was getting _involved_. Horatio's own opinions of the slave trade over the years had changed little, from blind acceptance, to the faith that things were going as God had intended. Some people were meant to serve, the social classes taught him that. He had heard of the rebellions and thought no more of it than sea cooks getting tired of their jobs. Everyone he met in a position of service he treated with respect. But that was service. This was servitude.

It was against the grain of his current thinking, of years of travel at sea that revealed the complexity and unfairness of life, the brutality of men, the sheer audacity of those that thought they were better than others. But dammit, he was under orders, and experience had shown him that disobeying orders was just too risky, though he still managed to do it. This situation was already too risky. He just wanted to do his duty and get back to the_ Indie_, and leave this madness behind him. He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and turned to tell Archie exactly what his duties were, and to obey them to the letter. Instead he said, "Just be careful, Archie. For my sake if not for your own."

Archie's eyes softened a bit, though his jaw remained firm. "I will. Have no worries on my account." He lowered his gaze, met Horatio's once more, then left the room.

"But I do worry, my friend," Horatio said quietly to the door.


	8. Chapter 8

The evening meal was silent, as was the night they slept through. Morning dawned brightly over drab streets. Horatio had already been out, and was walking in as Archie rose. "Good morning, Archie," he said pleasantly, as though there had been no quarrel, "did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly so. And you?"

"Not slept better since aboard the _Indie_," Horatio replied. "I've brought you a quick breakfast. There is quite the commotion going on in town, I thought it would be a good time to pack up our things and take our leave without being noticed."

"And have you made arrangements for returning the horses?" Archie asked, biting into the small pastry that Horatio had generously provided. He frowned down at it as he chewed. "I'm sorry to say, I have my doubts as to this filling any part of my stomach."

"It was all I could find. Many of the shops are closed. As I said, something is happening. Most of the town seem to be on the east side." He quite deftly ignored Archie's quip about returning the stolen goods. He was still working on a proper, and safe, and discreet way to obtain their mounts.

Archie stopped chewing. "The east side? Where the slaves are?"

"I believe there is to be another auction. Unfortunately we will have to pass them to get to the livery, but that shouldn't be a problem . . . Archie, what it is?"

Archie had stood quickly, and was shouldering his bag. "Let's go."

"You haven't finished your food!"

"I'm not hungry."

"Archie," Horatio grabbed him by the arm before the man could sail out, "what is this about?"

"I want to see, Horatio. Nothing more."

Horatio had little choice but to follow him.

They forced their way down to the east side, where the holding yards were. People streamed down the streets like running water and met in a mass at the foot of a large stage. A man stood atop, dressed head to toe in clean white, his hands trying to wave silence into an excited crowd.

Horatio stood beside Archie, trying to keep him from pressing too closely. The blond head was bobbing left and right over the crowd, trying to see.

"I think the entire port is here," Horatio said. "Look, now's our chance, let's be off." He took Archie by the arm, intending to pull him toward the stables while everyone's attention was diverted, but his friend wasn't moving. His eyes were fixed on the platform, and the man being brought to stand upon it.

It was he. The dark man Archie had saved from further whipping.

The slave driver fixed the man's bonds to the chain that dangled from two posts. The young man practically hung in between, his chin raised defiantly, yet a nervous quiver could be seen.

The White Man grinned, his teeth flashing against tanned skin. "This beast," he said as he circled his prey, "this crock of filth, this insignificant thing, seems to think he has the brains and capacity to run. Countless times he has tried, and countless times he has been caught, proving our superiority over these creatures! Now, normally this is punishable by death, but by god, what a specimen we have here! Do you not agree?" There was an affirmative mutter through the crowd, and it rippled past Archie and Horatio. Horatio still had a grip on Archie's arm, and he didn't like the look on his friend's face.

"Archie," he whispered, "we must go. Now."

"I want to get closer."

"What?"

"I said closer, Horatio." Archie pushed through the crowd, with Horatio dragging behind him, still not releasing him.

The slave driver continued. He was a thick, heavy-set man with a balding head and a grisly, unkempt mustache. "This specimen, this_ thing_, is capable of long, hard days in the field. It should bring great ability to anyone who wishes to purchase it. Look at these arms, the muscles! Why if it weren't for the pure stupidity of this beast, I may very well be afraid of it!" The high-pitched whine of his voice was mesmerizing by result of sheer volume alone. His slow dialect spoke of time spent in the southern region of America. He pulled out a long, wiry whip, and forced it around his hand. "As such, I must demonstrate to this beast, and to you, the necessity for discipline. He tried to run. He must be reminded of just who," he stood in front of the man and looked into his eyes, "rules who. This filth is hardly worth the effort, but those arms. . ." he reared back and let his whip fly. It cracked through the air and landed on a limb. The man jerked, and kept silent.

"He's going to be flogged. Horatio, they're going to beat him!" Archie said, and pushed forward. Horatio held him.

The whip cracked through the air, opening skin and allowing the blood to run down the dark arms, down his chest, dripping onto the wood. The slave driver smiled and wrapped the whip around his hand once again. "Discipline," he said loudly, "is not an agreement. It is a necessity of order, for all citizens to thrive. We can only work well if we work together, now I ask you, is running away the way to solve one's problems?"

"No!" a man shouted, and a fist rose into the air.

The slave driver pointed at him with his whip, which stuck out like a twig from a thick branch. "A very noble man, a very intelligent man. Of course not. Like a captain of his ship, we must exact discipline, or lose control." The whip cracked again, and the dark man jerked forward. "Now these poor men who own the plantations, these hard working men, they have no time for this. They have crops to tend to. Therefore we must break these beasts in, prepare them for work. We do a service, do we not?"

"Aye!"

"I think so." The slave driver crossed in front of the man and grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes upwards. His voice was low and cruel, and his distaste was obvious to every living soul standing within hearing distance. "And so I shall render unto you, the meaning of the word 'obey'. Never again will you run." He smiled and released him. "Of course you can't understand me, all you can do is talk in that damned heathen babble of yours, but by god you'll understand this!" And the whip whistled through the air, over and over, lash after lash. The poor man jerked and trembled, biting his lip until it bled. His teeth shone against lips pulled back in pain. His eyes closed tightly, then opened wide as the beating continued, tearing his flesh wide open in red rivers. His chest contracted, his ribs exposed, his stomach caved, and he arched his back and finally screamed. The crowd responded in cheers, pressing forward.

"NO! You must stop this!" Archie was pulling forward, almost to the edge of the platform. "Stop this madness, you'll kill him!"

"ARCHIE!" Horatio was on him, spinning him around. "What are you doing?"

"This isn't a flogging! God, this – we have to do something!"

Horatio grabbed Archie's face and forced the vivid eyes to meet his own. "This is their discipline. This is no different from what we undergo on the ship. You know that. Desertion is a hanging offense, he is getting off easily."

Archie's hands were on Horatio's wrists, wrenching his grip away. "Desertion? This isn't the navy! This man was taken against his will!"

Horatio's eyes darted around, surveying the crowd, and the large men that bordered them. "I'll not have you stick your neck out for a native! Is that understood?"

He expected Archie to consider his words carefully, and to step down, as was his wont. Instead, his next action proved to him how much had changed since their time in the Spanish prison in El Ferrol. Archie stood his ground. "What was that you said," he spoke carefully and deliberately, "when Borders first sent for us to see the Captain. He wouldn't tell you his name, said it was of no consequence. And you said, 'everyone is of some consequence'. Would you go back on your word, Horatio?"

"This isn't the same, Archie!"

Archie's eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. His lips pulled back in disappointment, and he pushed off Horatio's arm. "I can not, I _will _not, accept that. Even from you." He lunged for the stage.

"Archie! Damn it all!" Horatio lunged after him and grabbed hold, wrapping his arms around his friend's torso. Archie twisted, and they went down, virtually unnoticed in the crush of people that cheered the beating. They merely chuckled lightheartedly at two young men in a scuffle, and stepped around them.

Horatio managed to hold Archie down, refusing to let him rise lest he do something foolish like jump onto the platform in a heroic act. Legs framed them, people stumbled from the push towards the platform. Horatio felt a boot scrape his back, and forced himself up. "We're leaving before we're trampled," he yelled over the increasing noise as he pulled his friend up, "and that is an order! And by god, Archie, you'll obey it!"

Archie merely looked at him for some time. His hard expression changed as the crush of people gradually started to ease away, each one muttering or laughing, pushing and poking each other about the scene they had just witnessed, some heading to the corral where the slaves were kept, others keeping mind to their own business as more slaves were presented before the large door of the holding area. Horatio's gaze shot to the platform. The man was there, hanging, alone, the man with the whip nowhere to be seen. A few more jeers went flung in his direction before the people decided to search for other entertainment.

The slave's head was down, his body limp. Archie pushed Horatio aside and slowly walked to the man, looking up at the swollen face. Horatio appeared at his shoulder, but was not acknowledged. He stared up.

The dark man lifted his head. Slits for eyes seemed to look at him, no, _did_ look at him. And something happened that not only held Archie in shock, but brought Horatio up to attention as well.

"Help me. . ." the dark man muttered.

Archie's brows raised. His mouth worked but nothing came out. He looked at Horatio, who seemed just as astonished. Then Horatio's dark eyes hardened as his features sharpened, and he sought out the slave driver, who watched the people press toward the gate with a gleam in his eye. Horatio pulled his shoulders back, and challenged him. "What do you mean, leaving him to hang like that? Do you have any idea what kind of infestation he may receive? The flies already swarm, and little good that would do for your prize!"

The slave driver turned slowly, his white clothes speckled with red. He took in Horatio's disheveled appearance. "You outta work?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You look like you need work. Torn clothes, thin as a rail." He regarded Horatio for a moment more, then hitched his pants up. "Fine, then." He nodded towards the platform. "Pull him down, get'em cleaned up. Take him back to the wall, and I'll see you get fed."

"Sir, I. . ." Horatio stopped as he saw Archie's expression. "Thank you, sir. You are too kind."

"So they say." The slave driver shook his head and walked to a table, where he sat and pulled at a leg of meat. He tucked a napkin into his shirt beneath his jacket and tore a hunk of meat off with his teeth. He stared at Horatio as he chewed noisily.

Horatio made little attempt to hide his disgust and signaled to Archie. Together they climbed the stairs to the platform and cautiously approached the man. His head turned slightly, and saw Archie. Their eyes locked. The man smelled of sweat and blood and stench that could only result from uncleanliness.

Archie stood beside him for a moment, then carefully reached up to release him from the chain, seeing Horatio do the same. The man's head had fallen to his breast. Limp arms dropped to his sides as he was freed. Archie caught him as he fell, realizing that for his size, he was a very heavy man, all lean muscle. He ended up half underneath him, the red blood staining his shirt. Horatio helped pull him aside and eyed the area. "We have to get him down from here." He knelt down, hesitated, then gently took the man's face in his hands. The black eyes that met his were desperate, and vastly intelligent. "Can you walk?" Horatio pointed to him and made a walking motion with two fingers.

"Y-yes. Help."

The voice was deep, much deeper than it should be in one so small. Horatio nodded and gently pulled an arm over his shoulder. Archie did the same. Together they walked to the edge of the platform, then sat with him and assisted him in easing to the ground. They landed in a heap. Horatio looked up and saw the slave driver snort, still holding his leg of meat. "Let's not take him in just yet," Horatio muttered. "Over there, to the outside of the building. We can sit and tend to him there."

"Will that slave driver allow us to go that far?"

"This man can't run. He can hardly walk. There's nothing to fear from us moving a mere twenty feet away." Horatio guided them towards the corner, seeing the slaver driver narrow his eyes, but saying nothing.

They released the man, and he fell back with a groan. Horatio cast about and found an old burlap sack. He ripped the seams and guided the man to sit on it. "The less dust you stir, the easier to clean these wounds, eh? Archie, see if you can find some water." Horatio removed his neck cloth and started to lightly, very lightly, dab at the man's skin. He did his best to blot the sweat away from running into the open wounds. Archie returned with water drawn from the nearby well, and together they went to work.

Archie said nothing, but noticed the change in Horatio. While he was pleased, he couldn't help but wonder if the change had come about only because the man spoke three words of English. He had to admit, in his eyes, it made the rescue more pertinent. He stopped cleaning long enough to meet the man's gaze, and point to himself. "Ar-chie." He raised his eyebrows and pointed to the man.

The man actually managed a tiny smile, which lit his face. He painfully pointed to his chest. "Lindiwe."

"Lindiwe." Archie smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Lindiwe."

"Nice, you here. Help." He turned to Horatio, who followed their example by pointing to himself and saying his name. "Or-a-to," Lindiwe tried.

"Something tells me your name is most unpleasant to his ear," Archie teased.

"He hasn't even tried yours, yet."

Lindiwe smiled, leaning back and wincing as the cloth dabbed the deep cuts on his chest. He breathed deeply and watched Archie from the corner of his dark eyes. "You. Ncombo unwele." He carefully reached out and touched Archie's locks, then pointed two fingers at his eyes, then to his own. "Luhlaza." Archie looked puzzled. Lindiwe pointed again to his eyes. "Luhlaza." He looked around, then pointed to the sky. "Luhlaza."

Horatio looked up, then at Archie, and smiled hugely. "Blue. He's saying your eyes are blue."

"Ah. Yes." Archie nodded and grinned. "Luhlaza. Blue."

"Ba-loo."

"Close." He jumped as Lindiwe hissed. "Sorry. How much English do you know?" This drew a puzzled look. "English?" Archie gestured to himself and Horatio. "English."

"Nice you here. Help."

"I think he's just picked up bits and pieces from being here, Archie," Horatio muttered. "I don't believe he actually speaks the language."

"You." Lindiwe's firm voice resonated in the small area. He pointed to Horatio. "Umholi." He fisted his hand, and gave a grunt of pain.

Horatio thought for a moment and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't. . ." he gestured helplessly.

"Umholi." Lindiwe pointed, and gave a firm nod. He pointed to himself. "Lindiwe." And again at Horatio. "Umholi."

"I believe you've just been christened, Horatio."

"Christened by a heathen. Will this journey ever cease to amaze me?"

Lindiwe seemed to be considering as he looked at Archie. His eyes prowled over the tanned features, the earnest expression. Finally he nodded, pointing a shaky finger at Archie. "Indaba."

"Seems I've acquired one as well." Archie smiled. "Indaba it is then."

"I wonder what these names mean?"

Archie kept the grin on his face. "I assure you, I have no idea."

The clean up continued for some time, until the slave driver crossed over to them. "There, that's enough then. Here," he grabbed Horatio's hand and upturned his palm, "there's enough for a meal for the two of you. You've done me a service, I can't stand to touch the thing." He pulled out a long stick which had a loop on the end, and roped Lindiwe by the neck, forcing him to his feet. "Now off with you, you don't want to catch what this vermin probably has crawling in what passes for hair on his head."

Horatio watched as Lindiwe was lead away by the neck, held at arm's length by the slave driver. He caught Archie's arm, but it was a gentle touch, a reminder, nothing more. "Come," he said, "we can do nothing more here."

"We have to burn their village, Horatio." Archie said softly.

"I know." He winced in distaste, then led Archie away, placing his arm around his friend's shoulder.

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Horatio stared at his empty plate, trying to remember if he had even tasted the food as he wolfed it down. Archie had poked at his, but his own hunger won the battle with his ire and he attacked his plate as well. No words passed between them, the events of the afternoon sealing themselves firmly in their minds, each one waiting to be processed. Horatio knew Archie was hurt. He would be as well, indeed he was, that his friend should suddenly take on a cause that was contrary to their objective. Archie had never shown reserve in killing a man, not when it came to war. He could remember long ago, back when the thrill of battle filled their blood with the wish to finally become men, as Archie ran to him, his face slicked and spotted crimson, "Did you see me, Horatio? Did you see? I killed two of them! Well, one, surely! Well, where were you?"

This same man now sat across from him, his face still young but somber, his eyes downcast. Horatio knew that mischievous gleam was gone from them. This was the man that battle had brought forth, the one whose youth had abandoned him as the reality of war set in over the glamour. This was a man who realized that mixed causes was the tapestry of battle, that there were no real victors. He prayed, for a moment, to have that young man back, the one who stared at the red on his sword in wonder, who was an image of nobility and worried none about the consequences of his actions. The one who saw his duty and filled it with no question. For the first time, Horatio took in the taste of what true leadership must feel like, to have to abandon those he loved in the light of duty. Which was more important to him, truly? He loved Archie as he loved no other, never before had a friend completed him so. Was it right to serve the wishes of a man he hardly knew, for duty's sake, and leave that which he truly honored to the side to rot in the mud, or to be hung? He would not hurt Archie for anything, and knew his friend felt the same for him. It was evident in his slouched manner, in the way that he refused to meet Horatio's eyes for fear of seeing disappointment there. It was an emotion Horatio understood all too well. But their plates were now as empty as the conversation, and it was time to fill the air. "Archie. We must talk."

"Yes."

"I know you do not like this situation, and I wish to God I could fix it for you."

Archie thumbed the edge of the table, still not looking up. "I know."

"But the thing is. . ." Horatio paused and pursed his lips, then allowed his own gaze to fall. "We have to make a choice. Now." He poked the table with his forefinger to make his point. "Do we carry out our duty as we have sworn to do, whether it suits our personal interests or not, or do we toss away everything we've worked so hard for on a whim that will be history in a few day's time?"

"Do you expect an immediate answer, or do I have time to think?" Archie slowly raised the cup to his lips, looking at the wine and not his friend.

"You act as though you haven't mulled the problem over in your mind during the whole of dinner."

Archie sighed and set down his drink. "What would you have me do, Horatio?"

Horatio started to speak, then thought better of it. He had wanted to say, 'I wish you would do what is in your heart to do', but at the moment he did not feel that way. He wanted Archie to do what was necessary to get them back on the _Indie_, and his morals be damned. That was his honest feeling. Yet he did not want his friend to return unhappy, as though he had failed in some way. "I don't know, Archie. I really don't."

Archie nodded and shifted in his seat, placing his elbows on the table and looking, for the first time, straight at his friend. "You enjoy logic. Let's play at that, shall we?"

"Fine then." Horatio leaned in.

"Logically, the proper course of action would be to do as our Acting Captain says, and follow our duty. After all, these savages have repeatedly attacked our port, pillaged our goods, taken our women and destroyed our ships. They need to be taught a lesson, to show that no matter what, the English sovereignty will prevail, and that we are not to be trifled with."

"Yes."

"Now, this is due to the reputable business of the slave trade, which provides much needed hands to farms and the like so that our growing economy can flourish and supply can be kept with demand. This is an inexpensive way to continue the trade of goods and keep our nation and king flourishing. Now, in exchange for this we provide food and shelter for these slaves. They no longer have to hunt for their food, they no longer risk starvation. They have the chance to lead a better life."

"Yes."

"And so we pull them from the life that they have known and thrust them into a life that is in fact unfair and ill-suited for them, because it does our King a good turn." He sat back angrily and raised his drink to his lips.

"Archie, I see your point here, and I agree. But think on this. Do fathers not send their children to sea against their wishes? Do you really believe all of these young boys are here because they want to be? What of you? Was it your decision to set off to sea, with your prospects?"

"My prospects are not as you think."

"Yet you had them. And you were shipped to sea, just as these natives are, taken from your family. You were sent to fulfill a life that you had not chosen for yourself, and had to overcome insurmountable odds to acquire a taste for it. You have been flogged. You have been beaten, . . . and worse." He shook his head at Archie's sudden shame. "I do not bring this up to hurt you, but to prove a point. You were forced into a situation that you were not initially suited for, and you adapted. Who is to say these men will not do the same?"

"They were stolen, Horatio! Their families did not give them up, they were stolen from them. That is what the slave hunters do, they destroy the villages and steal the people. The Navy did not take me, I was sent to it."

"If you think about that, Archie, I believe you will find that the difference is but a subtle one. Did your mother wish you to leave? Your siblings?"

"Not especially."

"You were taken from your family, just as I was, just as the majority of these natives have been. Now, does this justify it? No. But is it fueling the flame for your bitterness towards the situation at hand?" Horatio sat back, watching Archie carefully.

He was giving the matter thought. There was probably truth in what Horatio said, there usually was. "It is possible," he admitted. "But I feel it in my gut, Horatio." He looked up, and his eyes were dark with emotion. "This_ is_ wrong. What we are doing, granted if it came from the King's orders and not Captain Rapier's I may feel differently about the situation, or at least able to carry it out without much thought."

"Because then, the blame could be put on the King."

"And country. Yes." His face relaxed into realization. "Is it possible I am just intent on countermanding Captain Rapier, and that I actually have no feelings about the slave trade one way or the other?"

Horatio leaned back. "I believe you have strong feelings, as do I, only you've just started to realize them. But the matter remains, what are we to do about it?"

"Horatio, you speak highly of duty. What of your duty to your friend?"

It was a question Horatio was waiting for. "What of your duty to yours?" he asked plainly.

This took Archie aback. His posture gave. "I know, and I'm unfair. God, but I wish this damned excursion was over and done!"

"You are not unfair, do not think it. It pleases me to know that you can come to me with these issues. As for this excursion being over, it can be." Horatio leaned in across the table. "We can set out tomorrow. The village is little more than a day from here."

"Is that all?" Archie frowned. How is it that it has remained untouched? Why hunt across the whole of Africa when there is a village so close by?"

"I don't know, Archie. Maybe these hunters are looking for a particular type of people, maybe they know nothing of the village. Maybe Captain Rapier is mistaken in his calculations."

Archie's thoughts turned to their objective. "Any idea how we are supposed to set fire, then escape? Do you honestly feel like running through this heat for a day with an angry tribe at your heels?"

"We shall have to find a place to hide. Return here at nightfall."

"Easier said than done, I wager. It is barren out here."

"Not so much as you think. According to Captain Rapier's instructions, we should be able to conceal ourselves. Baring that, we may have to concoct something."

"A sudden structure where there was none before?"

"We must also think of the horses."

Archie stared. "You've had too much to drink. I still cannot believe you are willing to ride."

"More so than I am willing to run, yes. Absolutely. Plus that would solve the issue of getting our supplies to and from the village."

"Horatio. . ." Archie ran his finger along the rim of his cup, "I was thinking. "T'would be a shame if these heathen villagers decided to wreck havoc upon the port in exchange for our burning them out of their homes." He let the comment hang.

"Archie, that is what Captain Rapier is indeed trying to prevent! Do not forget, there are innocent women and children that live at the port."

"Innocent people that witness this brutality day in and day out? Think I'd rather they be burned."

"You can't mean that."

"No, I don't mean that, but dammit!" Archie sighed angrily. "There is no easy way out of this, is there?"

"The only way out," Horatio said, "is to do our duty as we see fit. Now, you have no scruples about cutting down any frog that happens to board your ship."

"But that is war!"

"Aye, and so is this!"

"No, this is different! These people aren't asking for war, they want to be left in peace. They just want their families back."

"And you think the wives of those frogs don't want theirs back, hm?" Archie fell silent. Horatio sighed and placed his hand atop Archie's. "Listen. I do not mean to berate you. There may be a way out of this yet. We may not have to do anything to the village, or the port. Give me another day."

Archie eyed his friend warily. "What are you up to, Horatio?"

Horatio gave a sly smile. "I had a dispatch sent to the _Indie_ before we landed. It should reach her by now."

"But how?" Archie paused, and shook his head. "My god, you really did it. You sent someone of in a bloody jollyboat!"

"Midshipman Rodgers.."

"Are you insane? Do you realize how far . . ."

Horatio shook his head vehemently. "I sent him to shore, you fool! He's met up with a ship that's headed back north. At best he should have rendezvoused with the _Indie_ yesterday."

"And how do you expect to receive word?"

"I've asked the courier to expect a post from the Admiralty."

"The Admiralty?"

"He's looking for anything with a seal, whether from the Admiralty or our good Captain Pellew. It keeps his eyes fresh if he thinks there is a chance of the port getting an official visit."

Archie grinned. "You are a right devil! And yet you've told me nothing?"

Horatio gave a lopsided smile, despite himself. "Well, I didn't want to get your hopes up. There is still a very good chance this can all go wrong, and we have to set fire to that village and run for our lives, and hope that Captain Rapier is true to his word." He raised his cup to his lips.

"And we take Lindiwe with us."

Horatio choked on his drink.


	9. Chapter 9

Note to Cpt. Jonathan Rapier

Dear sir,

We have come upon an unexpected turn of events during our stay here. Pleased to inform you that your instructions will be carried out per your request, only it must with a slight delay. Will inform you as to the details at a more appropriate time. Hope all is well aboard ship, and please be so kind as to look for my signal in two days time.

With all respect,

Lt. HH

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Lindiwe was pacing. His gait was solid and stiff, his back held rigid. His slow breathing betrayed the pain he was in, but he never voiced it, refused to acknowledge it, refused to give these _ubulongwe_ the satisfaction of knowing they caused any kind of torment. But never before had he felt such pain, not even when he was a child and stung repeatedly by the bees that protected the hive which hung in the tree outside his village. His mind wandered back to that day, to the welts on his skin, to his mother who admonished him as she cradled him for going near the forbidden tree, afraid for his life as he convulsed. He was curious, he had said, once he was well enough to rise several days later. Well, she had replied, I hope for the bees sake that your curiosity was satisfied, or there will be none left. He hadn't understood what she meant until, a day later, when the swelling had subsided and his fever had gone, when he noticed a pile of tiny black bodies under the tree. The tribe's _insangoma_ spat on the ground in frustration when she saw him and hurried away, her wooden staff as agile as a third leg. His curiosity had killed half the hive. The bees never outlived one sting.

And of course, it was this same curiosity that led him to the hills where the white men where, where he crouched and watched their vile motions and speech. And again, his curiosity killed half the hive.

Mpunga was there, watching him pace in the holding area. He was the other that had survived the trip from his village. The man was old, older than Lindiwe could comprehend, but he was in good health. His limbs folded underneath him like spider's legs. His keen eyes watched Lindiwe like a vulture surveying his prey. Indeed, he seemed to stare at the dead as though to feast upon their bones. There were several to choose from, four men had died from disease during the night. Their bodies lay crumpled in the sun, still chained, for no one cared to move them. Mpunga stared at them, and again his eyes met Lindiwe's.

Lindiwe knew the old man blamed him. The whole _umuzi_ probably did. He was never content with being still, with being right, with doing his best for the village. He wanted to run free. He wanted to be one with the leopard that he tried so hard to catch. He wanted to be in the trees as the giraffe reached up to pluck the thin leaves from their branches. Only the _insangoma_ seemed to understand him, and she even tried talking to his mother. "This child has no heart for the hunt," she said, "he is too curious. Let him learn. Do not withhold that favor he has within, to be one with that which our gods have provided for us." His mother was a practical person, and kept him beside her, and away from any temptations that nature had to offer. His father had been killed in a hunt the previous year, therefore it fell to his older brother to help provide the meat for the village. "Come, Lindiwe," he would say, "let us rid these poor antelope of their predators, and the predators of their meal!" And Lindiwe would go, but it would be to run alongside the leopard, and the cheetah, and dodge the killing arrows as easily as thrown stones.

The day the white men caught him, he had been running. Only he wasn't as fast as he had thought.

Lindiwe crouched down. He gazed at the old man, met his dark eyes and the hatred within. This is not my fault, he willed toward the man. I did not cause this.

A sound caught his attention, and his head jerked up. It was that boy again, no, a man surely, but never had he seen such a young face hold such bearing. His hair gleamed like a thatched roof. His eyes were blue as the sky above, and his teeth shown almost as brightly as Lindiwe's own. His skin was reddened in the odd way of the white men. If the sun of Lindiwe's home was so disagreeable to the white men, why did they come? He held his breath as the boy . . . man . . . approached. "Hello, Lindiwe." His pronunciation was good, his tone sincere.

"Indaba." Lindiwe greeted him with the name he had given him. He wasn't sure what to think of this man, or of the reason for his return. They had helped him, yes. They even tried to communicate. But why? Why return? He eyed Indaba warily as he sat, and forced himself not to glance over at Mpunga whom, he knew, watched their every move.

Indaba pointed at Lindiwe's cuts. He said something that sounded like, "beder," and smiled. Lindiwe looked down at his chest, felt the sting along his back. He raise his hand and clenched it slowly. A word came to mind, but what good was it to voice? It was bad enough that Lindiwe had given name to him in order to reconcile the image in his mind, to give it an association. But to converse? He would be on a ship by noon. Why be friendly? It was his kind that had taken him from his family in the first place. He'd had enough of the white men. A snarl curled his lip.

Indaba looked startled, but didn't retreat. Instead he sat cross-legged, pulling his heels toward his thighs and shifting on the dirt. He leaned his elbows on his knees, and regarded Lindiwe closely.

Lindiwe did not appreciate such scrutiny. He stood and started to make his leave, but was restrained by a hand on his wrist. In no time flat he had Indaba on his back, was straddling his chest with one fist upraised, ready to bloody his nose and the body attached to it.

Indaba just stared, his eyes wide and his hands raised slightly in a defensive gesture. Lindiwe could feel his quick breathing. He stared into those blue eyes and saw no threat there. His fist lowered and he sat back with a sigh. He released his hold on the worn shirt.

Indaba lay there, not moving, apparently waiting for him to strike, or rise, anything. And in the distance he saw the other one, Umholi, looking for all the world like he wanted to leap out and strangle him by the throat, and Lindiwe realized with a start that he should have. If a friend of his had been attacked, he'd have done the same. This thought was a bit disconcerting, because for a moment it meant that he and Umholi were of one mind. He saw that Umholi restrained himself with obvious difficulty; the white man merely watched Lindiwe with a firm jaw and wide eyes and breathing as rapid as the man he sat upon. Lindiwe looked down at Indaba and stood, reaching out to help his victim to his feet. Indaba continued to pin Lindiwe with his eyes, not bothering to wipe the dirt form his pants, not bothering to release his grip on the slave's hand. Only then did Umholi slowly approach, with cautious restraint, and in his hand he held a small loaf of bread. Lindiwe watched in growing confusion as Umholi joined them, his jaw still tight, his own intense gaze not breaking from Lindiwe's. The three stood in a small circle, each silent, each gauging the other.

Umholi broke off a piece of bread and handed it to Indaba, who released Lindiwe's hand and likewise tore a piece, then slowly, ever so slowly, offered the largest chunk to him. Lindiwe took the offering. He sniffed the bread carefully, then put it to his lips. He saw the other two do the same, watching him, doing as he did. He slowly bit in. They did the same. He spat it out, watching in amusement as they exchanged a look, then spat theirs out. And he laughed; a deep, thrilling sound like a rush of water into a gorge, and tore hungrily into his chunk. He sat and gestured for the others to do likewise. And so against the hot winds that blew, and underneath the bright sun that glared overhead, they shared their first meal together.

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"I must commend you, Horatio, you did quite well back there."

Horatio was in no mood for Archie's light teasing. "No sudden moves, you said. Did you really expect _him_ to hold to that bargain?"

Archie grimaced. "I had hoped he would pick it up on instinct."

Horatio's eyes blazed. "I swear to God, Archie, if you make me do anything like that again. . ."

"All's well, Horatio! What has you so flustered?"

What indeed? Horatio looked away angrily. "He . . . could have hurt you." It was a stupid answer. And even more so because it wasn't the fact that Archie could have been injured that bothered him. It was the panic he felt when his friend was forced down, and the unnatural swelling in his throat that prevented a cry; that was what bothered him.

Archie gave a laugh. "I don't doubt it! But the guards were watching our every move, do you really think they would have allowed things to get out of hand?"

"I am shocked they did not come immediately to your aid." And annoyed.

"As you had instructed them to stand back. What exactly did you say to them, anyway? Why did they allow us to bring in food?"

"I said that there was a ship's captain interested in this one, but only if he could be fattened up. I said that the amount of work to be done required a man of exceptional strength, but that a weak man would serve no purpose. This man has the build, he needed his strength, and I was instructed to see if he could hold down food."

"Intelligent, that."

"Yes, well, I've learned a few things while working through the ranks." Horatio forced himself to lighten his mood and playfully punched Archie in the arm as Acting Lieutenant Goddwyn ran up to them. He bent double as he caught his breath, leaving both Horatio and Archie to stare openly at him like a freak from a sideshow.

"Mr. Goddwyn!" His sudden appearance seemed to Horatio like a bit of nightmare pulled away and installed in a different dream, one in which it did not belong. Horatio cleared the fog from his mind and pulled him aside, trying to reconcile this man's sudden presence in port. "What are you doing here, man?"

"I've come to tell you." Goddwyn looked as disoriented as he probably felt. He looked about hastily and pushed Horatio and Archie to a corner where two small buildings met. His dark eyes were frantic and intense. "Captain Rapier has your message. He has ordered to go ahead with the attack."

"He's in port, then?" Archie asked.

"Yes, aye. You must start out tonight, immediately."

"Tonight? Are you sure? But, we are not yet ready for such a venture!" Archie shook his head in bewilderment.

There was something more going on, and Horatio knew it. He gripped Goddwyn firmly by the arm, feeling the tension, the instinct to pull away. "Tell us what has happened."

Goddwyn looked startled. "What are you going on about?"

"Something must have brought about this urgency!" Horatio said quickly. "Come on, man, be fair! We are sticking out necks out at savages who will stop at nothing to hack them off! We deserve to know what is happening! The truth, man!"

Goddwyn looked reluctant. His mouth opened, and the words seemed to come of their own volition. "His attack on Port Chaney failed. They are looking for him."

"A-Attack on. . ._what_?" Archie exclaimed. "What attack?"

"The crew are repainting the ship's colors as we speak. Look for the name 'Bastian'. We should be able to remain in harbor, but no more than a full day. Then we head north. If you are to join us, you must do your duty tonight and then head for Charlotte. We will meet you there."

Horatio gritted his teeth. "This was not a part of the plan, Mr. Goddwyn."

"Aye, nor was your 'delay'." Goddwyn suddenly acquired some nerve, and snatched his arm away. "You've cost us valuable time."

"Captain Rapier was supposed to be in port all this time, you mean to say he went and attacked another port, then returned?"

"Oh, lower your voice, for God's sake!" Goddwyn clenched his jaw and looked around, but the people continued to pass them by. "You've given him enough time for it through your hesitation, haven't you? The port is but a ways further south. The _Clementine_ has been docked all along."

The news was coming too fast for Horatio to make sense of it. "He. . .went on this other ship then?"

"And returned in the jollyboat. The ship was destroyed, and five of our men with it."

"Which five?"

"Evans, Crews, Mathias, Jones, and Borders."

"Borders?" Archie's voice was small.

"Aye." Goddwyn looked at Archie, not noticing the uncertainty in his eyes. "He died well, he did. I hope to go out like that."

Horatio could listen to no more. "Look, get on with you, before you are discovered."

"You'll head out tonight?"

"We've no choice, have we?" Horatio replied hotly. He was still trying his best to digest the information, and was having difficulty. His mind started the automatic churning it was accustomed to while pondering sums. Goddwyn now seemed unaffected by the temper and saluted quickly before hurrying back to the port. Horatio huffed and faced Archie.

Archie's expression was indescribable. Not sorrowful, not angered, not shocked. His eyes saw nothing. His jaw was slack, his facial muscles lax. It was a look Horatio never, ever, wanted to see on his friend's face again. But he knew this; now was the moment. Rapier had been proven unreliable and unfaithful. They both knew what faced them, and either they did as they were told, or denied the order. His friend would either stay with him, or go against him. Horatio was surprised to find that he was scared. If Archie were to refuse. . .could he find it within himself to refuse as well? Would he? "Come, Archie, we have work to do."

There was a moment when the words held tight, a rubbery tension that would either join them or snap them apart. And for that moment, Horatio couldn't breathe. But Archie merely blinked, then set his face. His shoulders relaxed into submission. "Aye, aye, sir," he said quietly. And Horatio's relief was evident.

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Acquiring the horses was not as difficult as Horatio has first feared, mainly because a different man was present at the stables. Apparently this stable hand was used to people coming and going at odd hours, and all it took was a little coaxing and money to secure two rides of decent gait and lively disposition. They stopped for their things, discreetly wrapped in cloth and held in leather bags. The saddlebags were loaded, and they were off.

The nights were no cooler than the days during this time of year. The only comfort allowed was the breeze created by the quick galloping over the ground. Billows of dust was kicked behind them, so they made certain to ride side by side, thereby avoiding an unpleasant face full. They had no way to tell how much time had passed as they traveled, and stopped every half hour or so to check their bearings and water the horses. Horatio was beyond saddle sore already, and eyed the horse after they dismounted. "I think I'd as soon have the natives stab me with their spears, than mount that beast again."

Archie gave him a pained, sideways glance. "Do not tease about that, Horatio, please. I am nervous enough about this as it is." He took a gulp from his canteen and replaced the cork, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while wincing upwards. "We should be getting close now, right?"

"I believe so, yes." Horatio looked about him. "We need to find a place to rest these horses. Fortunately there seems to be some sloping now, we should at least be able to watch the village before we destroy it." He sat heavily.

There was an anxiety in Horatio's voice that wasn't there before, almost an uncertainty. "We don't have to do this, Horatio," Archie offered softly. He unloaded their thin blankets and lay them on the ground side by side, sitting on one himself. In one hand he held Horatio's canteen ready; his friend had yet to take a drink. His other hand held his own.

Horatio picked up a few stones and shuffled them about listlessly in his palm. No, they didn't have to do this. Yes, they did have to do this, for who could disobey a Captain? And they would be gone, and this would be behind them. It would affect them in no way on the high seas. Except. . . "Archie, I'm going to ask you something. Something serious." He waited until he had his friend's full attention. "Do you think you know me well?"

Brows furrowed over blue eyes. "'Pon my word, I've never known anyone better."

"And what do you think of me?"

Archie handed Horatio his water, puzzled by this questioning. "I – believe you to be courageous, a good leader, well-respected . . ."

"Bollocks." Horatio took no notice of what he was handed, and set it down. "What do you think of me?"

Archie sighed and put away his own canteen and smoothed his blanket, giving himself time to school his answer. He lay back, his eyes on the stars overhead. "I think," he said softly, after several minutes of mental strategy, "that you have a brilliant mind, and are more cut out for naval life that I'll ever be. But I think you have trouble detecting just where your duties lie, where they should start and end. I think that maybe you put too much upon it, and, I fear, in the end it may hamper you more than help."

Well, he had asked honestly, and as usual, Archie obliged him with an honest answer. He thought about the words that confronted him. "Why, Archie? If it were not for this particular situation, would you think differently?"

Archie could hear the bruising his bluntness had caused. "This situation certainly has brought light to it. But think on it, Horatio," his mouth tilted into a smile, "you not only walk where angels fear to tread, you fling yourself there with reckless abandon. Either you do not think of yourself in the slightest, or you think too much of yourself. Now, I do not believe the latter, therefore I choose the former. I believe you take this call to duty so seriously, that you feel you must take every single risk upon yourself, or you will deem yourself unworthy of the things you rightfully deserve." He eyed his friend carefully. "Do you really fear failure that much, Horatio?"

Was it failure he feared? Reprimands? Not being good enough, not being trusted, "What I fear," Horatio said quietly, "is that your opinion of me may change once this venture is over."

Well, well. So he cared what others thought about him. This noble, assured soul had a sting after all. "What the crew, or even the captain, may think, is of their own accord. It should not matter."

"Archie, you did not hear. I am not concerned with their opinion, I am concerned with yours."

Archie's open expression that Horatio so loved, softened into affection. "Horatio, you have always been my friend. You always will be. This venture will not change that, but your death due to heedless or carelessness will." He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and his intent gaze caught in the moonlight. "I beg of you," he said with all seriousness, "be cautious through this. I can not bear the thought of serving without you by my side."

Horatio had no words. He blinked rapidly, staring at the rocks in his hand. After several moments he heard Archie lay back, and closed his hands around the stones. And very carefully, he placed them in his pocket.

The next day revealed a drastic change of scenery. Instead of dry plains, they found themselves riding amongst rich green foliage and crossing cold streams. It was a wondrous paradise that seemed out of place after such bareness. Waterfalls roared as they passed, laying claim to the rocks as the water coated them. The incline they had taken quickly became harder to traverse on horseback. They secured the horses to a tree and admired the particular falls before them. It was a double tiered fall, creating a pool at their feet before tilting down and crashing into the stream below. "We should come upon the village soon," Horatio commented as he studied the hand drawn map provided by Captain Rapier. "Funny, he mentions a few trees, and no streams at all." He rolled the map, surveying the area.. "I almost wonder if we are going in the right direction."

"And when was Captain Rapier last in these parts?" Archie panted as he sat beside the waterfall. He took his kerchief from his neck and held it under the spray.

"I don't know. It has been some time. But I doubt this waterfall has suddenly emerged within the past few years." Horatio sat on a boulder beside his friend. "How are you?"

Archie looked a bit startled. "I feel fine. And you?"

Horatio gestured with his own dampened kerchief. "I mean, I saw you rubbing your shoulder again. I take it the jostling on the horse is doing you poorly."

Archie's lips quirked. "More so the reining in, but I assure you, there's no need to fret. Fit as a fiddle." An evil glint colored his eyes. "How's the bum?"

Horatio cleared his throat. "The bum, Archie, is still there, and shows no sign of leaving me. Unfortunately."

"Feeling the ride, then?"

"Every bounce." Horatio frowned as Archie peeled off his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"I'm hot, I'm dusty, and I have dirt ground into areas that I'm uncomfortable with. I am taking a bath." He tossed the shirt aside and leaned forward, dipping his hand into the water and wincing at the cold. "Coming?"

Horatio thought for only a second before tossing his own shirt aside. He too leaned over and touched the water's surface as Archie stood to remove his trousers. "This should be an adventure." His head snapped around.

"Yeah, it. . .what? What is it?"

"Down, I said!" Horatio had grabbed Archie's shoulders and pulled him into the foliage that poured over the land like the water it framed. The startled man hardly had time to re-fasten his pants. They both held their breath as the sound of singing filled the air, just audible over the roar of the falls, and five women approached the stream below. Both men stared, wide-eyed and almost shamed at what they were witnessing, but neither made move to tear their eyes from the scene.

The women were colored from honey brown to pitch black. Some had their hair short to their head, others wore it longer and twined upwards with leathers and what looked like colored threads. Their chests were bare, their full breasts showing that not only were they young, but had yet to bear children. They wore feathered slings around their hips, barely skirts, and each movement swished smooth thighs and hips into view. Their arms were developed from carrying the water that they dipped into their baskets while splashing and laughing at each other. And just as quickly as they came, they sauntered off, still singing, baskets balanced on their heads.

Neither Horatio nor Archie spoke for several moments. Finally Archie swallowed thickly and said, "Well. Cheers to the natives, then."

"I believe we are close to the village."

"I think you may be right."

They remained crouched, staring at the water.

"I'm feeling some misgivings," Horatio said.

"About burning the village?"

"More about what I just witnessed, actually."

"I see." Archie nodded. And paused. "Rather fit, weren't they?"

"Oh yes."

"My thinking is this; if we carry our action through, it may not be the men we should fear."

"And I'm thinking if the women look like that, then what do the men look like?" And at this they exchanged glances and swallowed, then slowly stood.

"They did not notice our horses."

"I doubt they were close enough."

"Horatio, let's stay here until dark." Archie's eyes took in the scenery, so pleasant and peaceful, and his mind thought to the task ahead. "At the moment I can not bear to leave this spot."

Horatio agreed. "'Till dark then."

They rested. Neither one actually slept, nor dozed, but they tried to fool each other into that thought. Simply told, they had no desire to discuss anything. It was pleasant to be able to just lay in companionable silence, and it wasn't unusual for them to do so. But this time they were bothered with the task before them, and each knew the other was bothered, and felt that discussion would be prudent, but neither knew how to approach the topic. It wasn't until they heard a disturbance amongst the foliage behind them that they bothered to move, and then it was to snap to their feet.

The spears were long, and pointed right at them. The blades glinted. The expressions behind them were just shy of murderous. This was not a happy bunch, despite the gleeful singing of the ladies earlier that evening. Archie stood still, trying not to allow any movement to betray his fear, even to the point of stilling his breathing as to still his chest. Horatio's face was stoic, his expression the one associated with going into battle. What Horatio's thoughts were at that moment, Archie couldn't be sure, but the steely determination in those coffee-colored eyes gave him hope. He grunted slightly as he was pushed from behind towards a warrior, who lowered his spear long enough to grab a handful of hair and yank the now frightened man to him. He saw Horatio react, then think better of it. The warrior put his face to Archie's head and sniffed, then shoved him away. He thudded into Horatio's chest, and felt a protective hand on his lower arm. His face blazed as he faced his captors. The spears were leveled, and used to prod Horatio along until they were on the move, taking the path beside the falls. The horses and supplies followed, guided by a sure hand.

The village was in fact closer than they had thought. It lay at the foot of the third hill they crossed, well hidden by trees and leaves. The huts were large, some joining the trees to make odd, multi-tiered housing. Horatio had never seen anything like it. How large the village was, he could not say. How many people lived there, he dared not venture a guess. They stopped just outside the gate, marked by huge tusks and buffalo skulls, no doubt a traded gift. Archie leaned into him.

"So, was this a part of your plan, Horatio?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, absolutely."

A quick darting glance showed Archie's puzzlement. "Which plan is that?" he asked.

"The one I have yet to formulate." Horatio felt the spear at his back again, and wondered at the control these men had, that they could wield a weapon in such a way as not to draw blood. In fact, that they had yet to draw blood was a good sign. He and Archie were led in, and paused in front of the women, men and children that had gathered from all around, all speaking at once in their strange tongue, but none dared come close. In fact Horatio had merely to look at them, and they would take several cautious steps back. He cleared his throat and took a chance, pointing to himself and saying in a calm voice, "Umholi."

The people chattered and clicked, and it occurred to Horatio that by giving his name, he may very well be insulting himself, for he had no clue what the word meant. He pressed on, pointing to Archie solemnly. "Indaba."

One man walked up to them, his head cocked to the side like a bird, and his eyes traveled over their bodies. His speech rolled out quickly, and he pointed, his finger lifting up and down as he described the merits, or whatever he was describing, of their captives. Horatio and Archie endured the exam, and again Archie's head was jerked back with yet more interest in his flaxen hair. He was growing tired of it, yes his hair was blond, yes his eyes were blue, yes it was unusual amongst these people, but dammit! Was he expected to look like them? Horatio was different as well, why wasn't he yanked about? The man released him and yelled out two syllables, and the warriors obeyed. Archie and Horatio were forced to a large hut and shoved inside. They were made to face the ground, and had no idea who now regarded them.

And that was when the shouts came.

Horatio had never heard such a commotion on land. It was the equivalent of a battle on sea, yet jubilant, with whoops and chirring and whistles. He sensed the leader, for they assumed that was whom they had been brought to see, walk past them, and felt their bodies pressed down in servitude. They heard the speech, and the room cleared. The men holding them pushed them down further, flattening them to the floor with knees pressed into their backs. Their eyes met, each taking in the situation of the other, knowing there was no good way out of their predicament. "Horatio. . ." Archie grunted.

"Stay still, Archie," Horatio muttered, and winced as the knee jabbed deeper into his spine.

And a voice boomed behind them, and they were released. The weight was gone, and both men caught their breath and pushed to their hands and knees, only to find the hut empty.

They had no time to think. They only had time to act. The village was in chaos, and neither man knew why, but now was not the time to ponder. Now was the time to find their horses and get the hell out. People crashed by them, some fearful, others jubilant. Horatio spied his horse tied to the front gate. "Archie! This way!"

He fought through the crowd of natives, marveling at how such a small village seemed to house so many. He reached the horses without incident and hesitated as he eyed the saddlebag. It felt warm beneath his hand, because he was fully aware of what consequences lay within. His attention turned to the people running, to warriors who had left them unnoticed and were grabbing their spears, but not to attack. Rather, the commotion suddenly looked more ceremonial than anything. The panic that had set turned into a celebration, with a large circle of dancers chanting and waving their arms in rhythm. The abrupt change in the air filled Horatio with curiosity, and he walked from the horse without thought. He heard Archie call his name in alarm, but took no notice as he stopped a man near him, and gestured to the celebration, giving the man his most puzzled look. The man made a derisive noise and shoved him off, then laughed. And just like that, they were forgotten, no longer a threat.

Horatio hurried back to Archie, who had reclaimed his own horse, and looked at the saddlebag he was now clutching, his face holding many questions. Horatio looked at the people behind him, and made his decision. "Put it away, Archie. I fear we have a more pressing matter."

"What is it?" His friend's voice was fearful and confused. He didn't understand what was going on, why they were released without a second thought when he had been in fear of his life. And now Horatio was going back on the order he had been so determined to carry out? "What's going on?"

"We must return to the port. Now."

"But why?"

Horatio's classic impatience bloomed in red hues. "Look at those people, Archie!" He jabbed a desperate finger to the celebration. "They have their spears, but do they look like they are going into battle?"

Archie watched the natives. They were laughing, jubilant. They danced and frolicked and waves their spears in the air. "No," he admitted, "this looks more like a celebration."

"And other than those that brought us here, we've seen no warriors enter this village, am I correct? Whatever message they have received, and I do believe they've received news, for this happened too sudden, came from a solitary man, or maybe two. This isn't news of a battle they fought, all of their warriors would be away. This is something else." He waited until Archie nodded. "Now, we were brought in and placed before what I imagine would have been their council, or leader. They were all prepared to question us and skin us alive. Something happened that superceded this in importance. If they are not fighting a battle, what would cause this commotion?"

"Are you certain they are not preparing for our feast?" Archie followed Horatio as he led the horse away from the gate with no obstacles to impede their departure. He winced at Horatio's contrite glance. "I can not think."

"Then consider this. Why would they let us go?"

"I suppose your mentioning the names Lindiwe gave us helped."

"We were forced into the hut after that." His patience was nearly gone. "Now think, Archie! Why let us go?"

Archie was becoming tired of Horatio's game. He wasn't a child to be lectured to. "Maybe they realized we are not a threat," he muttered as he mounted his horse.

"That's it, Archie! We present no threat to them. And fortunately they did not examine our bags, though I doubt they would understand what they found."

Archie held his horse in check as Horatio mounted. "Hang on, Horatio, why would they suddenly perceive us as non-threatening?"

Horatio seized the reins. "Think on the larger scene. What do we represent to them?"

It was no longer a game. Archie was seriously trying to read his friend's mind. "Trade."

"And in most cases, slave trade. Now, what makes trade here possible?"

"The port." Archie reigned his horse as the realization sunk in. "Wait, you-you're saying something's happened to the port?"

"If someone came back with the news, these natives here would be ecstatic. And any threat we would hold over them would be gone. We are superfluous."

"The port. . .Captain Rapier. . ."

"Now your thinking is following mine. We must ride, blast it all, and ride hard. Are you up to it?"

"I'll lead the way." Archie's horse snorted in response, and they launched into the night.


	10. Chapter 10

A huge thanks for those reading, and for the emails requesting not-so-subtly that I get my rear in gear and finish this fic. Think I'll do just that, swallow the fear that's frozen this story and just get on with it. This hasn't been beta'd, so please forgive errors, I'm trying to catch them. Reviews are appreciated, as they tell me what works and what doesn't...thanks again! -Kam

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They hardly stopped, just enough to water the horses but not to soothe their aching bodies. Desperation drove them forward, the vain hope that whatever had happened could be stopped by their mere arrival on the scene. The two day journey lasted just over one, as they rested their horses only twice and were no longer taken in by the scenery. In fact, the barren landscape flashed past, the only sound was the thumping of hooves and the jingle of their load. The occasional snort punctuated the journey, and the sun led the way. It wasn't until they could smell the faint hint of sea air over the smoke that they allowed themselves to stop, perched high on a distant hill, overlooking the harbor. Or what used to be the harbor.

The port town lay in crumbles underneath the acrid smoke of cannon fire. The waters were still choppy with debris and the passing of ships that had hope to lay anchor, but found nowhere to berth. Archie and Horatio spared each other a glance before galloping down the hill, and towards the destruction.

The people at the edge of town were in a panic, little more than a day after the attack. The realization was sinking in fast that there was no where to go, that all of their livelihood had been destroyed, that food was now scarce and one had to fend for one's self in order to survive, or to feed their families. There were still bodies in the street; some were the townspeople, others were the guard and military command that had ventured into the slaughter by way of saving the port. Horatio dismounted and flung himself into the disturbance, pushing towards the bay, knowing that the _Clementine_ would not be there, neither under her name nor the other. But he had to know, he had to make certain. They did say they would wait a day. If they waited, they would have been caught in the crossfire. He hoped to God they were not the cause of all this. One man grabbed his collar and spun him around, his yellow teeth spitting vile insults while the other hand searching his pockets for anything of value. Horatio gritted and managed to push him away, and only then thought to look for Archie, who should be with him . . .but his friend was no where to be seen. "Archie?" Horatio suddenly realized his mistake in launching ahead. He backtracked, his eyes darting from one face to another, his arms and hands shoving others aside as they ran about in mass confusion. "Archie!" There was no answer. Horatio cursed. He would head for the bay, surely. Horatio would find him there.

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Day four. It wasn't possible that he had been stuck in that god forsaken excuse for a port, alone, for four days. The streets were filled with lost souls. Mothers held wailing children, but would let no one near them to assist, for whom could they trust? One of their own had attacked, for all they knew the whole of the kingdom had cast them aside to be taken by the savages. Horatio turned from a woman holding a little girl who cried for her daddy. The woman's face was like stone, carved immobile with shock. Fours days and she still felt desperate. Her expression and the cries of the child told Horatio all he needed to know and he walked away, unable to help, unwilling to admit to himself that he was part of such a dastardly plan. His blame tripled.

The pub was still standing, barely. The front had been saved, but leaned outwards at a disturbing angle. The roof was half gone. It was apparent that, like the people on the streets, the building suffered more from shock than a direct hit. He ducked inside. Glasses were broken, chairs splintered. The place had long since been pillaged. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as the moon poured into the broken window, leaving white blotches of light that pinpointed the debris. He knelt down and picked up the hilt of a sword, not military, but richly designed. The jewel was missing. Further searching revealed a bottle of port that had rolled into the corner. Funny, that. Just the thing to set himself right. He picked it up, straightened, and glanced around the room. "Sorry, ole girl," he said to the building, "looks as though you need this worse than I do, but I do believe I'll help myself." He looked to the stairs that led, or almost led, to the rooms above. He climbed carefully, stepping only on the most secure planks, and found himself in the room he and Archie had shared upon their arrival. He sat in a corner, winced as he popped the cork from the bottle, and took a long drink. His face turned to this shirt as he coughed while the liquid burned its way down. Better. He took another gulp, forcing it down, trying not to make a sound. He did not want to be found. For once, Horatio Hornblower, man of battle and sea, wanted nothing more than to hide.

It was apparent that if Pellew had received his message, something had detained him. Or maybe the message never got through. There was no way to tell, and he couldn't be certain to trust the courier. The truth of it was, now there would be no message. Certainly word had gone out about the attack, but as far as that went. . .and then there was Archie. . . he couldn't think on that. He brought the bottle to his lips. No. There was no way he could be. . .yet he had not seen his friend since the mob tore through on the way to the ships, dividing them. He only knew that Lindiwe was freed, and part of him hoped that Archie was with the young man. But part of him was scared of that exact same thing, for what if Lindiwe wasn't what he appeared? What if Archie was roasting in a pit for some cannibals? Or if he'd been shot, or captured by a tribe . . . there were too many variables. Too many "ifs". He reached into his pocket and fingered the few stones that were there, the stones he had placed within that night when he and Archie had talked. "I can not bear the thought of serving without you by my side," Archie had said to him. _Oh, my_ _friend, nor can I._

"Horatio, you great fool," he muttered to himself, "when did you become such a pessimist?"

And then there was the man that had been watching him for the past two days, a face that he recognized, but for the life of him he had no idea where. He reached his mind back several years, but still could not put a name to the features that had plagued his dreams the previous night. He did not like the way the man's eyes sought his, the way he would disappear if Horatio tried to approach. There was recognition on the stranger's part, and a threat by way of his hand on the hilt of his own sword. He never advanced, but every time Horatio saw him he would physically appear a bit closer, and closer still. What had started as observation from across the street had turned into a near encounter by the shoreline, where the stranger was a mere few feet away, close enough for Horatio to see the glint in the man's eyes before he disappeared in the crowd of people that were checking the damages. It was unnerving to say the least, and if the encounters played out as they had been, his next one would literally be face to face, and sword to sword. That was all to the good, but that Horatio had no sword, nor could he come across one. The closest had been the hilt he'd found below. All weapons that had not been confiscated by the military personnel who fought to regain control, were carefully hid away or concealed. And in this melee, there were precious few soldiers that were able to keep any kind of control; most had been killed during the attack, and any kind of reinforcements were slow in coming. But he knew news of the attack was spreading, because there were already two new ships in the harbor, but as of dusk they had yet to try to approach land, having thrown their anchors in the bay. And now it was dark, nearing midnight, and Horatio was trying his hardest to drink a solution into his head, since logic was doing nothing for him.

It took a moment before he realized he was hearing footfalls on the stairs. His head snapped around and his bottle shattered. The foot steps paused. Cursing himself under his breath, he made his way quickly across the floor, to the door that stood open. Blinking rapidly cleared his vision, while adrenaline took care of the sluggishness of drink. He crouched low, just beside the doorframe, and waited. No one knew he was here. No one cared, except for one man. Maybe tonight would end it all.

The figure hesitated just within the doorway, the shadow lengthening in the odd light. The hair was disheveled and stood wild about his head. Horatio held his breath. Dammit, it _was_ him, what the devil did he want? His teeth ground together and his jaw clenched tight. He exhaled as softly as possible as he steeled himself for the jump. Just one more step inside. . .

Horatio sprang with all the power of a tiger and landed full on the man. He heard a cry of surprise from beneath him right as the room darkened, the clouds covering the moon. A powerful lurch sent him flying, and he landed hard on his back. The shadow kicked him solidly in the ribs then knelt over him. Horatio reached up for the face, that scarred face he so hated, and dug his thumbs into his eyes. The cry of pain pleased him, and he grinned maniacally as he forced the man off, rolled, and stood. The man was barely more than a shadow now, an outline in the dark. Horatio caught his breath. "Have it out then!" he yelled. "That's what you've been wanting, is it not? Well, here I am!" He waited, then said, "If you will not speak, so help me I'll beat it from you!" He saw the man straighten from his doubled position, then take a step towards him. Horatio lunged, driving him back against the wall and onto the floor. They rolled, and in desperation Horatio found himself topmost. A strike to the jaw pulled a cry, but it wasn't the cry he had expected.

"I said enough, for God's sake!"

"It is not enough!" Horatio interrupted. "I've watched you as you've watched me, now what do you want with me? Tell me!"

"What? Do you not see me, man?"

Horatio allowed a moment's hesitation. His vision wavered, the adrenaline was ebbing, and he suddenly wanted to fall over. But, it wasn't just that . . . something was . . . .

"Horatio, for God's sake calm yourself and look at me!"

Horatio shook his head and slowly stood. The clouds cleared slightly, revealing a shadow again, and he grabbed it and jerked it over to the window. His eyes widened and his breath caught at the face that looked back at him, bleeding and a bit worse for wear, but nevertheless . . . "No," he voiced his denial, shaking his head, "no." Then he pulled the man to him, unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes.

"Oh, Christ, not so hard," the young man wheezed.

But Horatio would not released his hold until he felt arms fold around him; even then it was several moments before he carefully pulled away. He held his friend at arm's length, desperate to study the features. "I-I can't believe it! Archie, where the devil have you been?"

"Waiting for the opportune moment to have the soul beat out of me, of course, since the calvary couldn't reach me." The moon finally broke through, resting a white light on their features. Archie was indeed a bit beaten, but not badly, and Horatio knew he looked the same. He saw Archie's eyes wince as he took in the injuries, injuries he had inflicted. "You attacked me!"

"I . . ."

"What on earth for?"

"Archie I swear," he almost laughed in his giddy relief, "I did not know it was you." His smile widened. "By God it's good to see you!"

"And you, finally." Archie grasped Horatio's elbow. "I've been searching the port from corner to corner, then had to retreat for a day . . . good lord, I kicked you in the ribs, are you alright?"

Horatio had doubled over slightly. He managed a smile. "I'm more upset over my spilled drink than sore ribs. A drink I can no longer share," his face fell into a frown, and he surveyed the floor as though to find another bottle, " though the occasion certainly merits one."

Archie pulled him up. "I am perfectly satisfied with having you back." He grinned, his teeth shining in the moonlight. Horatio was mesmerized by them, and realized either he had missed his friend terribly, or he was more drunk than he thought.

"I have to sit," he muttered, and slid to the floor with Archie bracing him. "And while I do so, you're to tell me everything."

"After you tell me who it was you were waiting for. That's no customary way to treat a stranger who may be returning for his things, and much less a friend who in fact was."

Horatio allowed his head to loll back against the wall. He arranged his thoughts, now wondering if incident with the man was all a farce brought on by a grievous mind. "It may be nothing."

"Tell me."

The intensity in Archie's eyes was not to be ignored. "There is a man in a large coat," Horatio said slowly. "He carries a sword. He has been watching me for the past day and a half, and each time I find he is closer to me. I fear he means me harm, and when I caught view of the silhouette on the stair, I thought it him."

Archie's expression melted into concern. "You've no idea who this person is?"

"He looks familiar, but no, I have no idea."

"A recollection, then?"

"Maybe. But I've no idea why anyone would be here, now, that I might have know back when."

"Is this recollection an unpleasant one?"

Horatio shook his head subtly. "It is hardly a recollection at all. More a feeling than anything." He looked at Archie, and clapped a hand on his friend's knee. "Where have you been these past days? Do you realize it has been four days since the attack?"

"Of course."

"You weren't captured or anything?" Horrific memories tried to flood him, images of a broken man in a putrid cell.

"No."

"No natives trying to burn you at the stake?"

Archie gave a small chuckle. "Horatio, what are you going on about?"

Horatio received the humor well. "Worry, my friend, just worry. But do tell me what happened!"

"It's not much of a story, really. Everything broke into chaos, and I couldn't find you anywhere. Lindiwe found me, however, and took me away from the port that night. We stayed on the land, and each day I returned to search for you. Each night he would come for me, and we would stay on the land," he cringed, "slept underneath a tree, and my back certainly feels it."

"Lindiwe! Then I owe him my thanks for keeping you safe."

"And I owe him mine. He saw you earlier today, and came for me. He wasn't certain; he kept saying, 'Umholi', and it wasn't until I did this," he waved his hands around his head, "that he smiled and nodded."

"What is this?" Horatio mimicked Archie's movement.

"Wild hair."

"My name means 'wild hair'?"

"No, I've no idea what it means . . . anyway, I had hoped you frequented our old quarters here, so I thought I would come and wait."

"And receive a rather nasty greeting."

"An unexpected one, yes." Archie chuckled.

"Where is Lindiwe now?"

"At the edge of the road. I told him I would return with you, and that we would plan what to do next." His blue eyes were suddenly hopeful. "You do have a plan, right, Horatio?"

What was he to say to that? Horatio bit his lip and looked down. Archie saw this, said,"oh, I see," rather dejectedly, and looked away.

"Archie, my plan was to find you. Now that I have, I can think clearly as to our next move. I think we should ask Lindiwe the way to Charlotte. He can at least sketch out a map, since I doubt he would be willing to lead us."

"I believe he would lead us if we allowed him his freedom."

"Freedom? You mean to return to his village?"

Archie shook his head sadly. "His village is gone. It seems he traveled a quarter of the continent to get here, and all on foot. They were a group of fifteen, and he and an old man were the only two who survived the journey."

"Old man?"

"He was held for purchase as Lindiwe was. He died in the attack. Lindiwe nearly died as well, but luck had it that a mortar knocked down the wall he was chained to. He still wears one chain on his wrist, we've had to tuck it within his shirt sleeve. Wrapped it around his arm and fastened the end with a wire."

"I see, wait, how do you know all this about him?"

"It is amazing what facts you discover while under a tree with a stranger, fearing for your life."

A wry grin passed over Horatio's face. "And he is waiting for us?"

"Yes, in hiding, as we speak."

"Then we should go to him." Horatio rose and reached his hand down for Archie.

"Gladly. Our own kind are not pleased seeing these natives walk freely, I've witnessed two nearly stoned to death already."

They cautiously descended and walked to the back of the street. Archie whistled low, and Lindiwe rose from his hiding place behind some stock barrels. His dark skin blended into the night, making his white shirt stand alone and glow. He regarded Horatio carefully, and held out his hand.

Horatio sincerely accepted. "Thank you, Lindiwe, for coming back. And for taking care of Archie. . .of Indaba."

"Umholi." Lindiwe smiled. "You are welcome."

The accent was fluid, and the words understandable. Horatio's eyes widened, and Archie shrugged. "We didn't sleep much."

"I see. That explains how you managed to hold a conversation."

"Come." Lindiwe pulled at Archie's sleeve and beckoned to Horatio. "Come."

And they followed him as the moon vanished again behind the clouds.

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Horatio knew Lindiwe was watching him. He knew it even before he turned to stare into the dark eyes that glittered in the warm night. The young man was crouched, slumped, and watching him with an intense curiosity. Horatio blinked, then raised himself on his elbow. Lindiwe's eyes followed the motion, but he did not budge. Archie was nearby, stretched out on his stomach on top of his shirt, and he shifted and settled his head into the crook of his arm before drifting back to sleep, his face hidden by his loose mane of hair. Horatio pushed himself up and picked up his own shirt, shaking it out before pulling it over his head. And Lindiwe watched.

He had no idea why the African had taken such an interest in him. It made him uncomfortable, as though he were being carefully observed by a large blackbird, waiting for the opportune moment to pick at his bones. The eyes that stared were unreadable enough in the light of day, never mind the darkness of night. The moon was low on the horizon, the sun would rise soon. And they would head as far north as possible in a day's time.

Horatio arched his back, pulling his long arms behind him to release the joints. His shoulders shrugged and rotated, he sighed and bent over to touch his toes, stretching his back. Sleeping on the ground was something to get used to, that was certain. He had no idea whether Lindiwe had slept. Those eyes of his betrayed no fatigue. The moon was beckoning to him, unusually large on the horizon, just ready to dip and hide from the pending sun. A motion at his side caused him to turn slightly, and he saw Lindiwe at his elbow.

The man seemed to have grown in the day they had been together, or maybe it was that previous times Horatio had seen him, he had been slumped. He was nearly Horatio's height, close enough to look right into his eyes with no effort. But his eyes did not seek Horatio's, they stared at the large grey globe settling heavily in the distance. And to Horatio's shock, he spoke, slowly, deeply and quite eloquently.

"My people say the moon grants the wishes of those who are worthy. We sing the prayers, we pass the indibie, we watch as it sinks to carry our wishes to the ancestors. Yet every time the moon rises, there are no answers to our prayers. It only casts a fair light on our destruction." He hesitated, whether in sorrow or respect Horatio wasn't certain, then continued. "My mother once said not to put much faith in the moon. It is too far away to answer our prayers." Lindiwe sought Horatio's gaze. "Perhaps I am not worthy. Yet you are here, with your friend. And now that we are freed, I wish to express my thanks properly."

Horatio found his tongue. "I-I think it fair that I tell you, I was against freeing you at first. You need not thank me. Arch – Indaba there," Horatio gestured to the sleeping man, "he was responsible. If it were up to me, you may very well be dead."

"You are here now, and we are both alive." His eyes widened and sparked as he said the last word, and he smiled.

Horatio was still confused. "I have to ask, how is it you speak our language so well? And why the deception?"

"I speak your language, yes. I have seen the white men many times, enough to know that they are not all as they seem. I helped a trader once. He took me on ship for several months, where I had to learn the language to carry out my orders, but I grew tired of the waves." Each word was carefully pronounced and accented.

Horatio could not picture tiring of the sea. "Well, that explains it. But why not talk to us before now?" He gave a wry smile. "Poor Archie, he looked so proud. He thought he was successful in teaching you, he will be disappointed. . ."

"In truth, he was delighted to hear me speak."

"He knows?"

"He does."

"I see. So instead you felt the need to hide it from me." A sudden hurt surprised him, showing that he had more faith in this man than he had realized.

"I hid it from the people of the port. I have seen what happens to those that appear educated or intelligent. It is better to play like a monkey. It is an advantage if you hold something back from your enemy, to be used later."

Horatio was fascinated by the man's rolling rhythm. His slow, careful speech gave a beautiful, poetic twist to words normally considered stocky and superfluous. His musical tone commanded attention. "I understand. And this is the first time you've been with me, away from the port, so it is safe to speak." The moon was now a half disk over the hill. "How long did you say you sailed?"

"One long season. I returned to my village with supplies from the trade, new hides and beads and dried meats for the drought season, when the animals flee the land in search of water. My village would have been well supplied until the next harvest."

Horatio thought back to what Archie had told him, that his village had been destroyed. The look on Lindiwe's face forbade any discussion on the topic. "And what did you trade in exchange?"

"He wanted ivory. I supplied him well."

Horatio gave a small nod. He didn't voice the thought that entered his mind, regarding the slave trade, but he wondered how the African managed to escape shackles the first time around. Lindiwe noticed, and tightened his lips. Together they watched the moon disappear, and the earth darken. Horatio did not know what else to say. "You learned well."

Lindiwe had the grace to appear amused. "Does it surprise you to know I am capable of learning? That I am not a savage, or a beast?" His chin raised as Horatio's eyes lowered. "I wanted to know what was being said about me, so that I might survive. At the time, I was not convinced I would return to my home. And when I did, I was there but a year before they came."

"Then you know the purpose of your capture?"

"But of course. Even those that do not know the language, know when they are being marched into the mouth of hell." The bright eyes pinned Horatio's until the latter's face flamed in guilt. Lindiwe watched him, then gave a measured nod of approval. "You will learn, one day. You will see what it is to lose everything you hold dear. But for now, we must hold on to _this_ day. Look up there." His long, brown arm reached out, and a bony finger pointed out the hill in the distance. "The sun will crest. And we will move on. That is your future, there. That is where we head next. Behind us is a town full of fear. It is plagued with those who will take, and never give in return. It is death." He shook his head. "No, there is no point in looking back. Only forward." And he started to walk, leaving his shirt behind on the ground.

Horatio watched him. He felt a deep respect swelling in his breast, awed that such a man could go through so much, yet blaze a trail towards the sun. And he realized in that moment just what connected Lindiwe and Archie, and why Archie had been so reluctant to allow misfortune to fall on his new friend. They were two of a kind, two survivors, and they recognized the trait within each other. He hesitated, then walked back to Archie. He looked down at his friend, reluctant to wake him, but Lindiwe was already in the distance, and not looking back. He snatched up the dark man's shirt and shook his friend by the shoulder. "Archie! Wake up, we're going."

"Mm."

"Archie, come on now!"

Archie rolled onto his back, taking a slow, deep breath, then allowed his eyes to open. He angled his head and studied his friend. "Horatio? What. . .it's still dark, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong, is your friend Lindiwe is leaving us, and we will be hopelessly lost if you don't rise immediately." He took Archie's arm and helped him to his feet, then bent down and shook out his shirt. He brushed off what dirt he could, and thrust it at Archie. "Put this on, and hurry!"

"He'll not leave us, Horatio," Archie muttered as he accepted the shirt. "Calm yourself."

"After our conversation, I have my doubts. He is far more intelligent than I gave him credit for."

Archie yawned and looked past Horatio to the man walking from them. He forced himself to talk, to wake himself. "He holds no argument with you. If he did, you would not be here." He thrust his arms into the sleeves and pulled the shirt over his head. He tugged it down. "Besides, I think you'll find him a rather forgiving man. He has a large soul, even with the events that have transpired."

"I wonder why he should be so forgiving? Do they not seek revenge like everyone else? All the talk of the various tribes fighting each other, and us. . ."

"I think they have their revenge, with the destruction of the port. But to answer your question, he is forgiving because he has faith, Horatio. Something you could use a little of." Archie grimaced as he tucked in his shirt.

"Faith in what? He is a heathen, he doesn't believe in God."

"But he believes in _something_. Now, I have no clue what that something might be, but isn't it the mere practice of believing that matters?" He stopped Horatio's retort with an upturned hand. "Oh, I know, I could see preaching the gospel of Jesus to him, but honestly, what good would it do? And you have to admit," he smiled wryly, "after what's happened to these people, I think they have a better chance at the gates of heaven than we do, regardless. Lord knows they deserve the opportunity."

Horatio straightened from gathering his bag. "His heart does appear to be in the right place."

"That is all I can ask of any man, personally." Archie handed Horatio an empty water bag to stuff into his pack. "Give him time. He doesn't have to help us, you know, he could have left us to rot. Yet he's still here." He stifled a yawn.

_And so are we._ "That's true enough." Horatio gathered the remainder of the supplies they had been able to muster and started off, staring thoughtfully at his shoes. Realizing he wasn't being followed, he turned back to see Archie frozen, staring ahead. The first rays of morning light colored his hair honey-gold. His eyes suddenly brightened in the glare. Horatio looked to where the sun was rising, and saw Lindiwe cresting the hill, with the huge sun as an amber backdrop. His black body was a perfect shadow, and he raised his arms and greeted the coming day. The sun brightened and shimmered in response. Such was the intensity of the spectacle that both Horatio and Archie stared in silence until Lindiwe started his descent, vanishing behind the mound.

Archie smiled at Horatio as he walked past. "And here I always thought Christ was a white man." His grin widened, and he started off. Horatio breathed in and exhaled heavily, saying a silent prayer to God for his friend's blasphemy, just in case, and followed.

The journey continued. Sometimes they talked, mostly they preferred to walk in an almost meditative silence. Archie mused, watching his friends. He had taken to hanging back when they conversed, and he could sense another talk coming, because he recognized the expression on Horatio's face. He was deep in thought. His prominent brow was furrowed, his eyes dark. He would absently stroke the stubble on his chin, and Archie knew his pondering had nothing to do with hygiene. Lindiwe walked on as was his nature, his head held high and alert, his steps even and steady. He never looked back to see if they were following him; he either sensed their presence, or knew they would not leave him. And if they did, Lindiwe would probably carry on without a second thought. But Horatio, there . . . he was looking up. His brow was smooth. He had thought of a question, and was about to ask . . . he quickened his step to fall in line with the African's.

"Lindiwe, tell me a little about your faith."

"Faith?" the deep voice rumbled back. "What is this 'faith'?"

Horatio never could keep his hands still while conversing. One did manage to stay firm behind his back, but the other circled the air, or clenched into a fist, always complimenting his explanation. "Faith is when you believe something with the whole of your heart. It is what you turn to when everything in your life is against you. It is the saving grace of men. What did you turn to, what thought did you hold, when you were captured by the traders?"

Lindiwe was silent for a time, and Horatio looked for a moment like he considered backing away. But he caught a voice so low, that he had to strain to hear it. Archie listened as well. "I have faith in one thing. That one day, the prophecy will come true."

"What prophecy is that?"

Lindiwe fixed his gaze on the path before him. "There is a story," he said, "of a man born to save Africa. This man will unite the tribes as one, and together they will wipe out the offending whites, and return the country to us. This king will rule on bloodshed. But we will be unified, and we will be free."

"And this man, does he have a name?"

"He will." Lindiwe turned and glanced at them over his shoulder. "And I will find him."

"And that is your faith. Your goal."

"It is."

"I can think of worse, " Archie muttered, and gave Horatio a look that bordered on pleasure.

Horatio shifted his bundle. "But how will you know when you find him?"

"I will know. He will set such fear into the heart of the whites that they will no longer entrap us. We will no longer be enslaved."

"Moses," Archie said quietly, "freeing the people from Egypt."

Lindiwe turned to him with wonderment in his eyes. "This has been done before?" he asked slowly.

"Oh, yes."

"And it was successful?"

"It was."

A controlled nod. "Then it shall be again. This Moses, do you know him?"

"No," Horatio said, slightly amused despite himself, "he died a very, very long time ago."

Again, Lindiwe nodded firmly. "Then he will send someone to free us. And when he comes, I will know him. I will follow him, for he will be a great leader of men. He will change the course of this nation." Lindiwe walked on, his words hanging in the thick air like a prophecy waiting for a place to happen. And neither Horatio nor Archie doubted it in the least.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks again for the emails. Fully appreciated! I'm sorry this chapter is short, but expect the final chapters to be posted soon! Any mistakes here are mine, and I apologize in advance for them. -Kam

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Charlotte was much smaller than they expected. It appeared to be a quaint township, its houses pristine white despite the dirt stirred into the air by the hot breeze. The trees were fewer, but thick. The women walked casually, not with the intense purpose that so colored the erratic port they had left. Their clothes were as clean as the houses, which looked dreadfully out of place. The men wore suits, or nice shirts and slacks. And the black natives around town were decently presented, complete with neckerchiefs. Archie was pleased to see such illustrious behavior, and more than a little disconcerted by it. Horatio was ill at ease. And Lindiwe was hard to read. His shirt was filthy, as was theirs, and Archie noted with wry amusement that the natives of the land were a bit squeamish around him. That probably had to do as much with his bearing as anything, for while these properly dressed natives held themselves in a slump, revealing their status; Lindiwe, clothed in torn, filthy, hand me down rags, held himself like a commissioner, or a king. He looked at everyone directly and did not back down. Even the Englishmen, with their noses in the air, found his attitude most unsuitable. They hurried each other along the streets.

Horatio stopped. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the rich communal and floral scents around him. "Smell that, Lindiwe? That is civilization."

Lindiwe was wincing. "It smells like English soap," he said in disgust, "and the village hurts my eyes."

Horatio admitted that the white buildings did perhaps shine too brightly in the sun. But he never before realized that the scent of flowers could smell soapy. Lindiwe was right. "What do you know of English soap?" He realized the statement, to an Englishman, would sound offensive, but to a native, not quite so.

"We do practice cleanliness, Umholi," Lindiwe teased, "only we do not desire to smell like something that has dropped from the heavens. You can not trust things that drop from the heavens."

"And why is that?" Archie asked.

"Because, things that fall from the sky are either dead, or an ill omen. The skies are for the sacred. To fall from them is to fall from grace. Why should I want to smell like something that has fallen from grace?" His no-nonsense, lyrical voice carried to three men who were propped against a wall. They eyed the new arrivals with mild curiosity.

"I see." Horatio was trying to decide which building might house the governing body of the settlement, seeing as how they had ended up in the middle of town. He chose a large building with ostentatious columns. "Here, I think this is where we want to go." He stared with Archie at his heels, then noticed Lindiwe was not following. He smiled slightly. "Are you coming?" He was surprised to find that, deep in his heart, he wanted his new friend to say yes.

But Lindiwe shook his head sadly. "This is where I must leave you. You have no need of me in that great house. I have another great house to find."

Horatio expected this answer. That was why it pained him so to see the hurt expression on Archie's face.

Archie stood still for a moment, blinking. His face worked through various expressions before settling on sadness. "Of course you must. But by God, Lindiwe, I will miss you. This happens too sudden." He pulled the man to him in a tight hug.

Lindiwe was surprised. Horatio could see it, the man was facing him. His arms slowly wrapped around Archie as if uncertain what to do. After a moment he relaxed, and his eyes closed.

Archie pulled away, and held Lindiwe by the arms. "You be careful," he said, "and for God's sake stay on your guard. I've no plans for another rescue mission." He grinned sorrowfully.

"I hope you find your ship," Lindiwe responded, gripping Archie's arms in kind. He leaned in. "Look after your friend, as he does you. He has the mark of a leader, but you are the root to his tree. Do not allow him to topple, keep him firm to the ground, as all good friends do." And he smiled a huge grin they had never before seen, one that split his face in two. His eyes twinkled, and he walked to Horatio with a hand extended. He took Horatio's in his right, and placed the left on top, capturing both the hand and Horatio's full attention.

"You serve well," he said. "I know you do not believe this. There is greatness before you, but you must not forget to listen to your friend here." And again, he leaned in. "Do not penalize his heart. You will have as much need of it as he will have need of your strength. Together, you are whole." He smiled and backed away.

Horatio was taken aback by Lindiwe's words. He swallowed and regained his composure. "Where will you go?"

Lindiwe tilted his head slightly in thought. "I have my ideas. I have heard that the King Senzengakona of the Zulu refuses to claim one of his own children, thereby declining him a right to the Zulu throne. Already word travels of this child."

"And does this child have a name?"

Lindiwe laughed deeply. "It is Shaka. Fitting for a bastard whelp the color of night."

Horatio smiled, then jumped. "Wait! Speaking of names, what does 'Umholi' actually mean?"

Lindiwe took a few steps toward them, but not enough to meet halfway. "It is a leader. I told you, you are destined for great things. I can see it in your eyes." He pointed to his own with two fingers, as he did when they first spoke. "You have power there," he said deeply, then instructed, "You use it well." Lindiwe straightened and turned, waiting for Archie to speak, knowing he would ask, but knowing it would not matter to him.

"And my name?" he asked softly, almost obediently.

Lindiwe softly crossed the distance between them. "My friend," he said gently, "you have the face that no one can lie to. You have the eyes of a dreamer. You enjoy stories and tales in your homeland?"

Archie smiled. "Very much. There is a writer, an artist of the written word, that you would appreciate. His name is William Shakespeare. I wish you could. . .waitwaitwait. . ." Archie suddenly dipped his bundle to the ground and unwrapped it, pulling out a battered book. He looked at it for a moment, then carefully handed to his friend, taking Lindiwe's hand and folding it around the leather binding.

Lindiwe opened the book. He frowned at the writing, then looked up and shook his head apologetically. "I can not read this. But use it to remember me by, since we share a soul." The book was passed back as he pulled Archie to him, much as Archie had done moments earlier. "Farewell, my friend. Indaba, the storyteller," Lindiwe said into his ear.

"Fare well, Lindiwe." Archie sniffed, and forcing a smile.

Lindiwe pulled back. "Do not be sad. I will leave you with a thought. There is a saying among my people, 'ÚutÇtrÇ ñue wotrÇa ýeðuðu ðo'. 'You change your steps according to the change in the rhythm of the drum'. Go where the wind will take you, my friend, and stand tall." He grinned, and turned.

"Thank you," Archie called to his retreating back, then frowned. "Tell us one more thing! What does 'Lindiwe' mean?"

Lindiwe faced them one last time, and he laughed aloud. "'He who waits!'" he responded cheerfully, arms spread wide, and Archie laughed with him. They heard his laughter stream behind him as he passed through the people, and vanished.

Archie's eyes followed his friend's retreat. "Maybe not Moses," he said quietly, "more like King Arthur. I would expect this Shaka to wield a mighty sword, and for all we know, Lindiwe is the Merlin that gives it to him."

Horatio smiled at his friend. "You really believe this prophecy, then?"

Archie shrugged. "Why not? Stranger things have happened, that much we have seen."

Horatio stood at Archie's shoulder. He felt an enormous warmth, as if he's just been given a great gift. And that gift was new appreciation of his dearest friend. "Come, Archie," he said, "the Ministry awaits."

"And the _Clementine_, hopefully," Archie said, and then sighed blissfully, "and the _Indie_!"

Horatio grinned hugely and fisted Archie on the back of his arm as he headed towards the large building. He had gone only a few steps when he noticed that Archie wasn't beside him. Even before he turned he heard his name. "Horatio . . ."

Horatio stopped. Archie's jovial expression had suddenly fallen into one of anxiety. "Yes?"

"What are we doing?"

"I'd of thought that obvious. We're going in for news about what happened at the port, why it was attacked. . ."

"We know why it was attacked, and we know who did it! Now do you really want to go in there are offer yourself as an accomplice?"

"Archie, we had nothing to do with. . ."

"We were sent in to destroy an African village. We were there with explosives, for Christ's sake! Surely you do not think that will go unnoticed?"

Horatio shook his head. "Archie, no one here knows what was in those saddlebags."

"Someone does. They were found, Horatio, after we lost each other. I saw the horses back with the owner, and the bags were missing. Someone has them."

Horatio frowned and took a step closer to Archie. "Why didn't you say something before?"

Archie rolled his eyes and gestured helplessly. "When? We instantly took off from the port to come here and rendevous with the _Clementine_. There was no time to go looking for something that is probably well hidden by now, not to mention it would point fingers to our guilt." His shoulders slumped as Horatio sighed and looked away. "Horatio, I'm sorry. I didn't think. Honestly, I thought it lost to us, and thought the quicker we were away, the better for us. I didn't realize those bag were so important."

"They're not, Archie." Horatio faced his friend in a conciliatory manner. "There's nothing to be done about it anyway, put it out of your mind." He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground for several seconds, then winced at the bright building. "You suppose the _Clementine_ is still in harbor?"

"I've no idea. But I doubt they would go out of their way to make their presence known. What's the name she travels under now?"

"Bastian."

"I suppose we could go in and ask if the Bastian has made berth."

"Or we could just go and see for ourselves." Horatio yanked his hands from his pockets and flung them in a show of anger. "Damn it all, what was the man thinking? I mean if he did do this, how are we to know if it was truly under orders? He could be on his own agenda as he claims, or he could be acting for someone else. He could have had a set of orders that he elaborated on, or he could have had a secret set that he kept well hidden from us. So do we go to the harbor, or there?" he jabbed a finger at the stoic building. "I don't know, Archie! This whole thing has become such a mess, I don't know what to do anymore." His arms fell limp at his sides.

Archie winced in sympathy. He licked his lips and looked at the building before them, then to the faint strip of sea beyond. "You change your step according to the change in the rhythm of the drum," he said softly, and turned back. "Whatever you decide, Horatio, I'll go with you."

It was a simple statement, yet it covered everything Horatio needed to hear, every doubt he'd held in his mind since the whole adventure began. His friend's blue eyes held every inch of sincerity possible. And while one burden lifted, he felt another descend.

"Archie," he said firmly, "whatever I choose, I'll see you clear of this. Do you understand? You were opposed from the beginning . . ."

"Horatio . . ."

"And I'll not see you punished for simply obeying my orders. If anyone is in the wrong here, it is I."

"If anyone is in the wrong," Archie said hotly, "it is the good Captain Rapier! He gave you little choice in the matter! Were you to disobey direct orders from your Captain? I was ready to, and in retrospect maybe that was a good decision, maybe not. But I showed signs of insubordination." He straightened. "Now, which one of us is in the right, then? Hm? Which of us should walk free? I swear to you, Horatio Hornblower, if you take that course, if you do this on your own, you _will_ be alone. I'll not help you destroy yourself."

"Well, that's a change!" Horatio responded heatedly. "When we first started this it seemed you hadn't a care!" People were hesitating as they walked passed, and Horatio realized they had been arguing in the middle of the square. He took Archie's arm and led him to shade. Archie gently jerked back once he was shielded by the leafy green, and regarded his friend closely. Horatio cast his eyes about, not meeting Archie's until he was drawn to the gaze. There was the intensity he knew so well. The utter devotion. The tenacity. And suddenly, an impish gleam as his face relaxed and he chuckled. Horatio was confused. "What? What is it?"

"You. You look so serious." Archie stuck his tongue in his cheek to pin back the laughter, but it came out anyway, and he looked down to cover it. When he looked back up, the tension was gone.

Horatio relaxed as well. "Damn you. You have a way of making light of anything." He sighed, a grin still on his face, and looked past the building to the shore. "I suppose the best thing to do, at this stage, will be to see this through. There may yet be a surprise waiting for us at the end of it all."

"Oh, Horatio, not another one." Archie groaned playfully as Horatio pulled him towards the bay.


End file.
